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 Feb 8 Cné
Clay Micallef
There is a blue bird
at my window
trying to show me
its pretty blue wings
trying to sing me
its pretty songs
can’t you see
my hair is grey
my heart is black
if I could turn the
hands of time
I would turn them back
I would love you more
hate myself less
fly away now
let me drink my
morning tea
fly away now
go and be with
all the other
pretty things …
Clay.M
 Feb 8 Cné
charles
like a ghost, it pulls your head back,

breaks each peaceful lull it ever had,

like a marionette,

painfully obeying the lines,

without a voice to answer the crimes.

your brain, fairly weathered,

tying stones to your legs,

so that you might feel better,

but there is nothing quite soothing,

like your life turned into letters.
 Feb 8 Cné
irinia
the bell
 Feb 8 Cné
irinia
The temple bell stops -
but the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers.

Matsuo Basho
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