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Is is not within the confines of space?
No chair supports the formation of thought.
I move beyond page
and shimmer toward
I perceive its edges rather than
see it substance.
I feel it permeate rather than
smell its fragrance--
The sense of it, balm upon my calloused feet--
Tenderness, you are
the cushion of my soul.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011