Now and Then

Editor back-issues, poetry

The sky’s crisp blue curls through me,Drawing these wordsFrom the chaff of the world. I’m tossing through my past’s what and when;Trying to rejoin its parts;Wondering whether this maple’s shadeWill ever cool me. I breathe deeper, pause; try to patchPast lives together; erase chance; but so muchRemains shapeless, strewn. Perhaps it’s best not to reweave frayed skins. But I’m trying to gauge the wealth…

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