This poem is taken from Stand 219, 16(3) August - September 2018.
Three Poems
*
You paper the sun ̶ with both hands
bury the ashes though the time hasn't come
for shadows ̶ what you darken
sooner or later becomes your fingertips
still warm, wanting to spread
...
You paper the sun ̶ with both hands
bury the ashes though the time hasn't come
for shadows ̶ what you darken
sooner or later becomes your fingertips
still warm, wanting to spread
...
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