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AFTER THE ICE WINE HARVEST |
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| YEAR OF THE GRASSHOPPER
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Nothing much has changed really: same skewered heart,
the same shish kebab. Forty year old me, eight year old me.
The year I learnt to ride a bike, and rode in hawk circles
on the paths of the park. The pattern of shadow
stuck to the wheels
just as fa
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from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski
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