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Beginning with a Couplet from Jane Kenyon's Boat Of Quiet
Hours
and Continuing with One from Jorie Graham's Region
of Unlikeness
, Proceeding with Another Couplet from the
Kenyon Book, One from the Graham, and So On Until the . .

Aaron Belz

. . . Last Couplet, Which is by Seamus Heaney (a Cento)



I was reading about rationalism,
the kind of thing we do up north.

Now I will make a sound for you to hear.
A sound without a mouth.

The sound of water rushing over trees
felled by the zealous beavers,

look up and it's suitors, applause,
it's fast-forward into the labyrinth

of my red dress with blue leaves
and lemon lilies--the one you bought for me—

sounds rising up now and then from the valley,
a hammering, intermittently a dog,

mid-afternoon the sound of weeping in the hall
woke me…hurried steps on the stair, and a door,

on the steps across the street a teacup of flour.
Three mismatched linen napkins folded below it—

the tiers of sugared pastries: angel wings,
cat tongues, and little kiwi tarts;

Let's consider the dark, how green it is.
Let's consider the green, how dark, with the rocker at its
                                                                      heart.

You are like a rich man entering heaven
Through the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.



Aaron Belz

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