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Irving MacPherson
Poems
Dec 2024
One Is Eleven's Rhyme
Over our head
Creeps big time
The only thing that is.
Fleshly folded
Moment, too alive
To die.
Witness to a break
In the softer water's wave.
Now, back, forced to see
No salve for the blind,
Sometimes, oh to be blind.
One is eleven's rhyme.
Written by
Irving MacPherson
M/New Scotland
(M/New Scotland)
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