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Robert Duncan
January 7, 1919 – February 3, 1988
What I Saw
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The white peacock roosting
might have been Christ,
featherd robe of Osiris,
the radiant bird, a sword-flash,
percht in the tree
and the other, the fumed-glass slide
—were like night and day,
the slit of an eye opening in time
vertical to the horizon
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