vazambam
new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer's block
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Thursday, May 22, 2025
Windfall Inclination Complex
--for John Phillips
the unheeded
word is what
we think
we never hear,
though it keeps
calling for us
to draw nearer, say
to the wind-
swept pines
shaping all that
we wish to hear.
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