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Thursday, June 24, 2004 05:22 pm

Knoepfle 6-24-04

sandalwood poem #7

I would build
a nest in your ribs
I would quarrel in your eyes
I would fly
out of your mouth
and strike down death for you

sparrow a dry wind
has parched this land
and there is no water

please do not say
it is my fault
the lilies sleep in rain

© John Knoepfle 1978, 2004

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