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Poetry
Poetry
Leaving Home
Opening my legs for her wasn’t easy. / She was hunched and burnt-looking. / Her whole face puckered toward her mouth. / She spoke with words like “dirty shame” / while she gave her absolution — / a small, white cloth inserted / into my womb.
June 1988Poetry
On The Edge Of Shambhala
Leaving the chiropractor’s office / driving through the woods along the Cold River / I wanted to write a poem
June 1988
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