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To William Stafford

my eyes follow line upon line strips of white in between strange voices, stretches of silence I hear them too they lead me away from my peers - in among the trees birches breeding close to me. knowing all along i can always return although it won't be the same                          * still we go willingly where silence takes us as cracks open - briefly -   in all the talking we do
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Written by
andreas-andersson
Swedish
Published
Jan 15, 2011
Lines·Words
17·71
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