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Cinto Vitier

My words verge on silencelike great birds that disappearinto the early evening: theirstrenuous white wingscarry off the intense sweetnessof dusk, visible thenin starlight.My words turn toward the nightwith no look backat what is lost or won, orwhat is missing, —  Cinto Vitier, from “Greater Solitude,” transl. Kathleen Weaver, Image: Art, Faith, Mystery (no. 65, Spring… Continue reading Cinto Vitier

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