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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, November 11, 2014


Suppose the lake you visit empties itself of reflections
Suppose the moon grows creamy and ragged
Suppose the children on the school-bus are giggling out loud
Suppose the cemetery stones lean into each other 
Suppose the roadways wind themselves back up into the hills
Suppose you imagine the light in the sky is not real
Suppose you begin to carry a basket of madness with you where-ever you go
Suppose you forget where you're going or where you've been, or why
Suppose you find a wolf in the woods then realize he's yours and follow him
Suppose he's lost as are you and you both wander deeper than ever
Suppose you end up in a cave where it's cozy, and you both settle in for a nap
Suppose that's all you remember, that's all you know, that's the finish...

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