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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
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Sunday, 25. January 2004

Shoutin & Dancin



Your voice cracking Was a glass bangle breaking.

In the distance, a train is whistling. Gunfire, rails are rattling.

As a coin is flattened into a pendant, Time is pressed into remembering.

In the garden, the earth is waiting. How to thirst, is it’s teaching.

Soon the cold cranes will arrive, Rains will arrive, the guest will arrive.

Sweep the house, paint the doorways, Beat the drums, holler. Let him hear And see you dancing to the innermost music.




My Poems

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