Listen!
3/22/03 dark the pillow from which dawn lifts its head moon passing westward four days past full two birds raise a call from the ridge nearby the thinning of night encourages their speech our sky is open and one small plane pulls itself across if we could remake desire no one would claim another life or fill the world with flames and cries but can we? I stand silent somewhat mournful staring at dawn and moon listening to the birds' early cries--some comfort but only for me (not enough)
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