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A boy in rubber bootssinking quickinto the mire of an April mudhole, mother’s warningto steer clearfrom temptation falling ..
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When I wade out and into the greenwash of antiquity’s womba little too far perhapsfrom the comfortable reachof beach, I sense hergrowing apprehe..
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A light rain washesmemories from the cracked steps,a ghost departing.Her lilac blossomswarbling in the wind a lastgood riddance take mefrom my kitchen..
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That May Medb swept through the Woodlands.A ginger vixen murmuringto lads to stir from their childish pursuitsto manlier games … Word-playa sud..
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asked to write something authentically Canadian
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In the high-heat of midday sunthe ghostly fulcrum, gnarledand knotted, leaves littleto the imagination:the precarious pendulum of lifebeing balanced, ..
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sitting on the dock of the bay, yet again
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"reflecting on Sandburg"
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A minor major, not Yeats yetnear enough. A voicecutting through the mysticdrizzle to the unadulteratedclay of life, sings --to the irony of saints --s..
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A few reluctant feet left … thispoem suggests itself, butiamb unwilling to submitto inky permanence, remain transient:as if, pen abhorsposterit..
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