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The falconer.

For a journey from low to low over high
a river only needs renewable energy:
sun and gravity as the skater
on a perpetual ramp. Only death

stops the circular talk into the hole
in the black wall where I saw the misses
at the wishing well and their kissable
soft arms. So young in my mind

it makes the years in the past short
remedies to wait for the long next.
These sheets cleaner than mine
make me long for another word

unhampered by machine defection,
the same as yesterday, but as good as
a hawk on the gauntlet of a man;
a timeless promise before the altar

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

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Date: 10/14/2009 11:48:00 AM
I have enjoyed reading your poetry today Jan. Thank you for sharing it with us. Love, Carol
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Date: 10/14/2009 10:59:00 AM
Excellent write. Very thoughtful and meaningful ideas are expressed here. I dig it, Jan.
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