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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
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Saturday, 21. June 2008

Down In The Grass



Cottonwoods send white gowned emissaries to the grass - where I try To overhear the word that passes Between the nodding stalks of berries And the wind - now embroidered by The flight of skylarks, and dragonflies




My Poems

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