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Jan 2016
somewhere in the dewfields a feeling unfolds. it was a noble feeling, but just a feeling.

ah, but nothing can ever hear us now.

save the fields     -     to you I belong to them.
arrowless voices snake the round room,
but you are wearing fox feathers, saying

β€œwhat will be, will be”
β€œsay it is so, is so”

here, the room      -     the empty field.

You know of what I speak.
Space lags. I will adjust time.

and in some blind room I make love to you alcove for suffering
as strangers arriving from the sea, a heap of fragments
and unsettling landscapes      nearing something

and for the first time, the deep heartache that comes from longing.
Chelsea Chavez
Written by
Chelsea Chavez  Fairfield, CA
(Fairfield, CA)   
   strawberry fields and ---
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