The middle of each worry
hung on the coat hook
of New Amsterdam
fondling the pearls on the neck of the Saint
grinning admit the twists and turns
of burying bodies
the strange stench of War
is all I smell
after reading the book
on Bruegel
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Play Like a Child
Play like a child in the sand building castles and caves and rivers and ribbons swing swords invisible wildly wielding The blood and bones ...
