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Friday, January 30, 2015

Poem 1.30.15

Poem 1.30.15

When the flesh is gone
& the breathing stopped to be
Hard as fried stone
YOU SAY
When flesh do be gone
& breathing a silt-clogged drain
Soft as demon butter
YOU SAY
YOU SAY
“I am the sound
That grows the Earth.”

Jerry W. Ward, Jr.

January 30, 2015

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