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Posted by on Feb 6, 2020 in Poetry | 0 comments

from Recovered Poems, 5


with what swirling
of litter and leaves
is the news received
when bells
and slate-clad steeples
speak at clouds
and hammering
fall winds rap
a rug of cold
transparent skin
teeth exposed
gripped by the stem
to break russet
and gold
seeing you asleep
freezes me to think
I am one long speak
and no words to come after

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