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Dec 2019
Good poems are like winter

When the fierce wind
Strips trees to X-rays
Nailed to the blinding blue

When the rain scoured air
Cleansed and clear
Pared down to Nothing
Reveals everything

When world, warmth-stripped
Left uncaring, cold
Shakes us awake
From our ambiguous dreams

Good poems are like winter
Much gone, little left
But those few remnants scream
With such blood curdling power
Written by
Cliff Perkins
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