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Febrero 27, 2005
June Storm
Voices from the first dark heartshaped green of summer
leaves, rain;
birds'.
What are they called.
I'm leaving here, and still don't know.
I'm going there, though,
where they are--;
I feel this.
Feel that I was there
before.
I felt this
as a child, and now
I know it.
Franz Wright
Posted by sarita at Febrero 27, 2005 6:47 PM