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So sure as he ties his shoes each morning, while out on the field the base materials lie in piles: the unformed clay. So sure, his world and not the sun is central: the lumber all subordinate beneath his saw, and children watch instead of play. The grasses bend to make a path; the running field divides itself to let him through. He begins to build a house. When he says it's time, the sun's gone down. He puts the hammer back into his belt and walks away. already it is yesterday, h e is so sure.

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