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On a farm in Tangent, Oregon - poem

We stood the barbed rungs brushwood to sternum,
o'er the plot of land gray lace interwoven the milky grass-blades,
a pumice hue subtle-billowing the length of the birch and pine,
laden the coiling twine the backs of sheep who were
nuzzling young tufts - damp and cool,
their snouts sinew and diamond raising the sun,
looming patch and bare earth...

they nuzzle and graze and all with time rest empty sleeves:
monoliths of tissue and consciousness crumble frayed coat and bone
atop spore and birm and new seed...

they have since Time and before been right here,
whether in form or as earthen mists heavy with crystal hair

drawing down a wearied branch;
solvent in shallow waterways through-below flaking porous walls
acre over and,
nourishing the grates of soil to seedlings,

to meet the nuzzle of an unborn lamb...

they have since Time and before been right here,
all shapes to light ever been their wake and drowse,
all recession of it their dream:

sloughs parallel glassy fields,
bronze and gold snowing to the Heavens.

Peace and Love always.



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