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 Apr 2013 Joanne Fuda
The Forest
have
to write
a story

pourquoi est-ce que quand on me dit d'écrire une histoire, je ne peux pas le faire?

twisting twisty-like twisters is all
I can
come up
   with


....Maybe the Triangular Prison, Bermuda Triangle?

Anyway...

sky
deep
  blue

dove
...framed
     above

and then



...the sky falls



......again
and...
again...
x forever
Buried deep beneath the skin of mother nature's frame
I saw the back of someone else, a boy beside his name
But when I tried to touch his face he turned himself away
And then began to utter things he thought he couldn't say
In coughing up the cloud of smoke like dust inside his throat
The boy was finding clarity with every word he spoke
A subtle breeze upon his lips had driven out the fear
Of shedding all the strata that created his veneer
for those who may or may not understand
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