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- Hirschman, Jack
- MENORAH By Jack Hirschman The basin of winter water from the stream in which I throw my face the morning after. The candle is burning. Neither mystic democracy to fall back on. Nor an ideology of secularity. Just the bed. Sacred. Candle still burning. No temple to regain but the overthrow of all this painful indifference that lives in the heart of things weave become. The candle goes on burning.mosaic.echonyc.com/~poets/vol8/hirschman.html