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There stands the frozen man
In which time stands endlessly still
Only a distant memory, fading with age
Trapped in a quaint box, his life sentence.
I wrote this poem on a road trip around the west coast of the U.S. I meant for this poem to be about memories living on through photograph, hence the frozen man.
I am a lone wolf, cursed to roam the rocky hills
A silent brook you are, cool, placid, grace in the  move,
My wounded soul gets  healed, for a while by your touch,
*Immersion in you  is my only  redemptive pilgrimage.
The thing

That we have to remember

Our moments

Are precious and brief

Old time

Is a hammering ocean

And life

Is a vanishing reef


Copyright Louis Brown
Moon's feminine fingers,
caressing her face, stray downwards,
a shiver runs through her spine,
*she is of two minds.
What you did in the woods,
was wickedly red;
i can still hear-
the wind, wildly whistling in my ears.
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