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In the Grip of It All

by
May 2004, no. 261

In the Grip of It All

by
May 2004, no. 261

Greenly, intensely, oddly
It is the day you wake up walking in
A scape you wandered bluntly through
Several hundred dreams ago
                                       or so:

The same tin sheds and staggered hedge,
Identical diagonals and chosen fork
Into the trampled path: somehow
Also bone-grey asphalt soon enough.
                                      It’s tough

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