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ZEN
Guinevere
had, lustrously aside,
always,
whether in tourney field
or
chamber where a cupreous braid
was
finely on another laid, said
of
substances and kinds the world held
Many:
hawk and well and countryside.
Merlin
demurred, for—in the blurred past
rising
from vials that he faced
to
make philtres for an ill love tryst
or
cook a stimulant if he must
for
errant knights—he had spied first, last,
between:
but vowed all from One was cast.
Lancelot
had seen no Holy Grail
in
black Carbonek on Castle Hill,
but
in the dungeon of his guilt (steel
helmet,
greaves, aside) made his mind spell
all
past thought, and render down, annul—
satori-cleft.
But felt small avail.
Alan
Marshfield
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