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beth winters
Poems
Mar 2013
unfocused
i am so imprecise a silhouette
that i waver in the midst
of swirling seas
i am so detached a soul
so unfocused and blinding
(a galaxy, loosened)
that i cloud and distort the senses,
stand between a body
and its needs
the garish outline of my necessity
grinds landscapes to a neat
unforgivable dust
later in august, almost september.
Written by
beth winters
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967
marina
and
Roni Shelley
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