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Oct 2015
desperate air
& every piece of body,
named on countless charts
in countless schoolroom closets
but only felt to me
in shimmers of springs
& soft running steps
on moss & oak leaves,
trembles & thrives in the space
between roots.
I feel it when there is wind
in the valley of the small of
the back of the adolescent cedar,
& unpolished beetles play me
twilight nocturnes in hopes
that I will break out of
silk fetters into the
dense of August to be
no one but myself.
Julia
Written by
Julia  New Jersey
(New Jersey)   
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