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For Anwar Amilcar-Tolstoi

Like a foot in the mud you press my mind for love I worry more about the naked toes exposed to broken glass And slide from it like water into a clammy ground Why have you left feathers in the nest, and to swim You straddle air, filled with phobia for so much water? We cross seas better flying in a flock on wings. O Anwar, my son, my son, so like the grass most tender Silence makes so much louder the blind lawn mower And in the wind does fly your seeds, life cannot surrender. Let me cross the sea again, I am always walking in the rain The wind blows dust into my eyes, and yes for you it pains But water flows to wash the sand away, like darkness from my face.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 11/18/2010 4:24:00 PM
I love this form, David. Sijo? It is a novel write, but worthy of the poetics you use to construct the history of a son. It's genius, man; genius!
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Date: 11/18/2010 7:18:00 AM
nice tribute for a son. jhl
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Book: Shattered Sighs