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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Thursday, September 16, 2004

No Poetry After

if this is the spell that saves
if no one speaks
if name of the disaster is silent
i think of the casual violence
always miles from me
forest fires inhale acres of pine
in time to write the elegies
that everyone wants now
who stood in the duststorm
if i cut my hair
create a new calendar for absence
i would still be migrating with the band
leaving whatever was left to us
across this trail of fear

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