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Leslie Philibert
Poems
Apr 2018
an empty moon over a suburban garden
a filtered light strained and old
that hangs over us man crawlers
we are loaded with slow blood
we jaw-jaw over evening circles ;
empty as a watering can in august
up and up the garden, down down
we hammer the green into squares
as we think we may, foolish with dust
Written by
Leslie Philibert
63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)
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