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poet

Nathaniel Tarn

by this poet

poem
Sitting, facing the sun, eyes closed. I can hear the 
sun. I can hear the bird life all around for miles. 
It flies through us and around us, it takes up all 
space, as if we were not there, as if we had never 
interrupted this place. The birds move diorami-
cally through our heads, from ear to ear. What 
are