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Poetry

Blizzard: Brooklyn View

A man shovels in a parking lot for a car supposedly there

Whithorn Manse

I knew it as Eden, that lost walled garden

Tune

with this map (or what is) Encounter forward back (what is wrong with me) “As part of my material” (I was a zoom, a framing

The Garden of Catherine Blake

Cloud and earth converge like banners of geese, both undulant, assimilable each to the other.

The Winter Kitchen

The cab dropped me in the driveway, and I tossed my gear into the snow. The ride from the airport had been quiet,

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