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Poetry

I am not washing the window.
I am not looking. I am not
afraid. I am not dancing.

I am not washing the window
no matter how dirty. I am
not buying bread today or milk
or eggs or honey. I am not

washing the window, ash and rain
streaking. I am licking the pane
clean

to make the human human.

New York City, December 2001

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The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

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