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Lizzie

January 29th 2008 09:08
The green room is still,
And there is a distant sound of trees brushing air.
You slide sound into the air with your humming


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Margaret's Song

January 14th 2008 09:17
Prologue:
I think this is actually a song although I don't know the tune. I wrote this after overhearing a conversation in a pool change room in Wellington, New Zealand, as one woman was talking to another about the death of a friend. I felt it was so poignant that this woman was in the midst of everyday activity when she was taken. It reminds me of my own mortality. I felt that there was also some incredible dignity in this form of death although I can't explain why: Maybe it was because she was really living up until her last seconds. So here is a poem about a woman I have never met and will never see- I have named her Margaret.

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Naive

January 9th 2008 23:56
She understands she is naive
But that doesn't mean she is a child.
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Out

December 19th 2007 22:26
It was the movement of your hands
That first caught my eye.
The rise and fall of your wrists


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