#20 summer summit 2018

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20 summer 2018.jpg
STARS, SCATTERSTILL. Constellations of people and quiet.

Those nights when nothing catches, nothing also is artless.

I walked for hours in those forests, my legs a canvas of scratches,

trading on the old hopes--we were meant to be lost. But being lost

means not knowing what it means. Inside the meadow is the grass,

rich with darkness. Inside the grass is the wish to be rooted, inside the rain

the wish to dissolve. What you think you live for you may not live for. 

One star goes out. One breath lifts inside a crow inside a field.
--Joanna Klink, from "3 Bewildered Landscapes," Excerpts from a Secret Prophecy (Penguin Poets, 2015)

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This page contains a single entry by Catherine White published on June 20, 2018 10:38 PM.

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