This poem is taken from Stand 241, 22(1) March - May 2024.
Two Poems
These Shades
Hanging around, slouching as never in life,
hands in whatever pockets they have, or yours,
in the haze between fog and mist,
out on the yielding fields and spikes of rushes,
...
Hanging around, slouching as never in life,
hands in whatever pockets they have, or yours,
in the haze between fog and mist,
out on the yielding fields and spikes of rushes,
...
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