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Words of a poem should be glass But glass so simple-subtle its shape Is nothing but the shape of what it holds. A glass spun for itself is empty, Brittle, at best Venetian trinket. Embossed glass hides the poem or its absence. Words should be looked through, should be windows. The best word were invisible. The poem is the thing the poet thinks. If the impossible were not, And if the glass, only the glass, Could be removed, the poem would remain.

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