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|  NOCTURNE

 
  A two-in-the-morning breeze billows the white curtain. The full moon plays preludes on the clouds. I suffer delusions, a naked composer, writing poems in the kitchen dark. A spider parachutes down, legs out like a star. I catch the web on my wrist and g


from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski