The book is a critic. "Like you",
he said, " better left un-opened".

You can use a knife to peel
an orange, though easier done

with your teeth; a scraping tool
is death, the irony of discovery.

Living, then, is a hazelnut,
smooth-skinned, unpenetrated,

natural as a grove choked by
brush, where mouse-birds nest

like lightbulbs of a chandelier
powdered in fine, brown dust.

The only freedom is light
outside its room, lost-

no layers or skein, just
wide, thoughtless shining.

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