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Kevin Mann
Poems
Aug 2013
In Iron Wilderness
Bags are everywhere
snagged in the fingers of dead trees
signs of last nights weather--
strong winds,
high water.
And so it is with life.
The breeze picks up
and we soar (the
thing about veins and roots is)
until we snag.
Flap like a husk
gutted
on a fencepost.
Written by
Kevin Mann
Asheville, NC
(Asheville, NC)
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victoria
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