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8/13/00
Exile, when a man leaves he
remembers
the lullabies
with deep black brows, silence
for the tenderness
he remembers that the forest was one
place, and the city another
the need for different faces to
accommodate
various
terrains
where he slept and rose fitfully
pulled covers over tumbling dreams
with deep
REM
so many little black wings
tiny flies with transparent buzz
what does this have to do with you?
why do you care?
three children
dance in a circle
figures around a candle join hands
one trips and the others run away
tenuous though
made of clay
sometimes there ARE monsters
no make believe this time
the questioner
speaks
let me begin again
believe in recreation, like a child
give me a
do-over.
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