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Just watching raindrops slapping leavesis better than anything requiring electricityincluding fame and posterity. Mondaymorning I walk over to the art..
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A robin hops, looks, pecks.Looks, hops, pecks.Pecks, looks, hops.
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No words, oily body sweats, city summer.Desperate to get out and never return althoughstalled on Triborough Bridge I admired the skyline.My city, my d..
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If, as they say, the cellsof the body are replaced every sevenyears, then I'm a new beingsince my sons were newborn.I have died and been rebornneither..
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November and Aprilwhen the trees are first bare and last nakedhave become my favorite months. All the food eatenexcept last rose hips and earliest lee..
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To the gods, the individual won't matter.But we've said No to that. Here, you count.Perhaps the gods, their tornadoes and weapons of mass terrorAre st..
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In "The Shootist", J.B. Books is not feeling up to snuff.He has cancer. What are the concernsof a man dying.To diecommensurate with the way he lived h..
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Dad said I'd be good at marketingsince I like making lists. Classifyingthe woods and herbs, jazz tunes, poets' poems and poems for peopleand I've also..
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The April morning's quietand so is the November.Wherever people outnumber treesor the dominant cover typeis unquiet. Nothing wrong with that.Walt got ..
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Rather than put myself in the sky which is socomplete with blue and clouds, I make a spacein a line of people climbing a trail in the mountains.All ni..
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