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Click hereConstellations in the night
can’t know quite
the figures that they make in black.
They surely lack
a knowledge of their various parts –
the small, hot hearts –
the little points where lines might meet.
Their heads and feet
give equal fashion to the air
and go nowhere;
and having nothing, they don’t mind.
They only shine.
~
if they realize they are a Sun. TK U MLJ LV NV
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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