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Liquor-lush pen does not imbibe its inks from branches barren-bare, nor drink
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Distress Signals Ignored: A Double Etherée
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Peace will not be put in place by promoting wicked war,
with death described as “dulce”, gunfire glorified.
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I think that we cannot fail to
recall what we surely have never
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Thoughts upon previous thoughts...
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November scorns the solstice soul that pines
for peony-paths and mocks monarda-missing
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in choosing a pathway to follow throughout one's life
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expecting winter and her emotions plummet
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Just polishing a stone...
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and that folly of one oblivious
to perennial seasonal teaching
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Calendar December-flipped, I am dismayed
by dismal thoughts of sunlight-dearth
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Stewing sullenly over pot-roast, rancour-ruined,
beef bile-embittered, she savagely spears
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solitary thrush
whistling a lamentation -
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foolish endeavour
waging yet another war
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laundering the news
trying to wash out bloodstains
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My soul is not hard-heaved of winter’s white,
but crypt-encased by bite of cold and chill.
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new writer lauded praises heaped upon his head -
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wealthy neighborhood noticing a rainfall of
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Let us not parade in poppy-pomp, battle's bloodshed glorified,
dead men hero-decorated, and fervent flags flown high.
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summer of extremes - endless rainfall followed by
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Bright, True, And Pure: A Double Etherée
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Where have you gone, mid-summer mandolin? Have you slid smoothly into saxophone or falter-fainted
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extremes of weather – endless rainfall followed by
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sunny morning skies soon replaced by towering
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On picking through several pounds of red
ripe chokecherries I am most aware
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A perception of lack can bring all manner of ills to bear...
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