Poet's Journal

Journal Entries

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Come to Surface

Winter won’t let go, the grip of cold and ice fierce in attachment to the rising earth. Vain we are to dream of awakening asleep

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Voicing the Incantation

Light returns as the earth slowly wakens. Although warm in winter refuge, I feel the tug to rise from beneath the woolen blanket. The building

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Working Iron

When we were behind the plow, working portions on another man’s land, we thought we understood the situation, our dream a piece of ground for

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Poems