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Where Blind Men Walk
Where blind men walk the buildings tell
Their definition to the smell,
The ancient, practised stones exude
An odor of their latitude,
And the familiar living room
Exists by its unique perfume.
Where blind men walk the streets proclaim
That surfaces are not the same,
But burst into articulate spines
Sharp as the Lunar Appenines,
Or murmur to receptive feet
Harmonies of musique concrète.
Where blind men walk blank spaces show
Themselves as perilous vertigo.
Green levels of a field of grass
Harbor the infinite crevasse,