February 18thA Poem by Hoyle Brannacht
Wintersmelt of standing water and rivulets atwiner. --patchwork path of shlupper’s quarter— The steppardeeskippard and I: the shiner. Theyroo betwain work and home with scowls upond their faces. I fall in purpose, --dryness hurt us— and splash my tetherplaces. © 2008 Hoyle BrannachtReviews
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