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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Feb 2020
The edge of evening.
Feelings that flow out
in words that I know
making sense of the
nonsense around me.
Poetry surrounds me
preserves me
and
like a dry stone walling
stops me from falling
off the end of the world.
Curled up in the bed
I could be catlike and
that like
I like.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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