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The Playwrights Forum > The Art & Craft of Writing > Poet's Corner : Critique my Poem > Night and Day

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 Posted: Mon Apr 30th, 2018 03:27 am
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timmy
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Joined: Fri Jun 9th, 2006
Location: Oz, Minnesota USA
Posts: 1072
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Two nights before he told me he was climbing
a willow, and I am sure he was

somewhere in the curves of his mind
where nothing yelled anymore, and a creek

wound around an uneven landscape
but never emptied anywhere.

I prayed there was a fond applause in his head
for what struck him, a sun or mother’s hands.

The day before, he recognized Cary Grant
in an old black & white; he pointed before sinking

back into his pillows like a piece of worn upholstery,
re-covered over and over and over again.

Last edited on Mon Apr 30th, 2018 03:27 am by timmy

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