In a message dated 7/12/02 6:28:28 PM, [log in to unmask] writes:
<< where my shoes, rocking on the imprints,
scuff as all that moves, all that’s rarely said
flows beneath all that’s between us
- *these things perhaps are the poem.* >>
I like this end stanza; usually don't like poems about poetry - feel this one
works - perhaps because of the metaphor you create.
kol tuv, Ryfkah
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