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« Why I am a Flip-Flopper | Main | Essay: Painting Flowers »

July 05, 2008

Essay on Craft

When the crows

Were talking Russian

As they sometimes did

When high in the birches

Death had pleased them

I chose to stop.

My life for yours, they said;

Our lives from theirs, they said…

& standing

Where they could see me,

I swayed

& kept my mouth shut

As it

Made them crazy…

 

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