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November 16, 2004 - A poem about Cosmicity, Nature

Weird Times.

I am seeing less,
but more than Summer’s tired flare
On litmus sky above tapered mound
and rough-torn tissue paper hill.
I fall below the errant wind,
under etched-mist tears big as Oaks
that sense call rippled nature’s bell
and threaded cloud in wonder’s curl.
I feel something growing in this land
See it glow with change and knowing -
It is a time of flow and rise.
These sudden sparks of joy
are freaking me.


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