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PK Wakefield Dec 2013
in such in was springtime (hollyhock and thistle) girls and boys went nudely up their downs, into crystal waters of crisply straying health (when all noontide swung wide its gabled darkness hutch) and boysandgirls (in holly) went winter in its touch.
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
heavy all the quiet laying music thickly between livingdying November

is suddenly stirred

at foot through many

running and laughing children

(wisps of growingfrailing stuff innumerably sheathed in a smalling pat of pale light)they

charge and roll up a hill by the school yard, boysandgirls together

boysandgirls together up going


                                                                     a hill

(whose mothers stand at the bottom and try to catch them when they fall
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
ope n al l t h e smal lt hin gs (between)
th ei rmiddle s i swri th e ge n tl         y
m yst er y (that which tiny wanders
awe) brigh tfast bl indl ingly w i t h e r s

                   faceshands

into dust stumbling minutely though
g   r   a    s  p in ga nd b    i   t  i n       g
so open all the small things (boys and
girls open them they have empty which
like you have and faster more colorful
nothing they) s                                        o
open all the small things boysandgirls
spilling from them running rivers of
poppies splayed out in raw pallid eve
rushing through cambered fragility
(that instantly with precise mess flair
with the curving orange of death       )
PK Wakefield Mar 2012
up against moon chimney
a city newly fragranced

       SprinG

like quickness sputtering
with young lean night
sinuous with boysandgirls
laughing
                  with each other
at how nice the sun was
by the lake and little crests
of smiles imp their cheeks
(and my cheeks
                            at how
lovely they are and against
springnight young with
them seems even warmer)
PK Wakefield Apr 2014
what is if (does the who why) and?

me perhaps you perhaps the trees
(and thousands of them(i have seen)
and thousands more await
each day as grass of us
belched of cloven stuff foil'd
'bout the neatness of gravestones)

there is a garden
and i have been amongst who
the stems of it sleeps girls
in their skin awake;

in their skinny awake
on unsure knees
ushering

boysandgirls

to and fro

toandfro boys and girls

go into each other their lips and out comes the Earth.

— The End —