Pattern

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Somedays I am astounded by the abundance of patterns.

I grew up in New York City surrounded by the patterns of apartment windows, cracks in the sidewalk, street lights, fire escapes, mannequins in store windows, patches of grass sprouting up in unlikely places, subway cars, graffiti, and accents.

Now I find patterns in the woods, around a pond, hiking up a mountain.

I listen to the patterns of language—the sibilant sounds, the cacophony of voices, and found poems imagined out of printed fragments.