Saturday, 3. November 2007
Morning Music
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Sun On November Mornings
shines like many others
I love (or have once loved):
A clarity in the clearing, fire on the grass covered with autumn's ghostly fingerprints, without the sharp heat of the summer but not yet certain how cold hearted it should be towards the swimmers who move half dreaming, half drowning towards the coffin-valleys of hoar.
My Poems
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