Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2011 v10n1
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if an inner landscape

rocking chair left in the rain

            (if an inner landscape an inner deluge)

bed frame left in the rain

hillside specked with peasants walking their fields for luck
            the more the    (blank)             (inside)
                                    the vaster the

                        branches of the fallen tree
            full of grackles

                                                            what floats away

            you knew ‘the shadow in the trunk was raving’

grandma’s china left in the rain

who is thunder in you
                                    after the flash
            who counts the seconds

feel the dropping pressure like somebody constantly arriving  end

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