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Edward Alan
Poems
Feb 2014
Pressed
Steam cools in cobbles
on thin glass
above dead pressed mulch,
coarse and boggy,
near dry silt laced like foam
on salty sea.
Between one coffee and
the next,
forgotten grounds fire
their broken dust,
remember a hot, earthy cellar,
a clay oven,
in cold water clearing
the cold cup.
In memory of Seamus Heaney.
Written by
Edward Alan
New York, NY
(New York, NY)
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0
512
Dรกnรฏ
,
pluie d'รฉtรฉ
,
Violet
and
Nicolette Avery Pizzigoni
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