poetry critical

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one day at dusk

Nobody would believe this sky
if it was part of a painting and
I’m stuck here between
realism and your world.
Not that it’s any kind of trap.
But it certainly doesn’t feel
like any kind of freedom.
It makes me wonder
where it is in our bodies
that you and I find each other.

7 Mar 07

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(31 more poems by this author)

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