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No then, no soon, no here, no there
merrily splashing, enjoying itself
this time of year offers
so it might appeardays draw in. the yearseems tired at the thoughtof doing it all over againcolder as ifthe heart has said its lastand hope itself had forgottenwhat it’s supposed to dothis time of yearis a test of mind. a hugeseasonal game, thought upby a child’s wisdom andsuppressed laughter, lipsbubbling with loveon a sunny day,…
That worn, stuffed bear you hide –
is more than your childhoodseen through rose-tinted time –toys that speak,toys that are talked to,toys that simply listenare the mediators betweenthe wisdom of the animal worldwhich shares with us, a heartanimals who live a blessed lifeonly in the present now,and the wisdom that children bringfrom the heaven that lies all about usin our infancy, as…
My granma, whose skills are legend,
that only granmas knowher secret name she uses when she writes her poems.It’s ‘ananym’.You’ll need Webster for that.
put aside questions;
the answers will be known.
I remembered I’d promised my Aunt Adele before she died
just to put matters to rest, since they’d not spoken for yearssince she upped and went off with this Pomand left the family without its clever high-earner…I wasn’t looking forward to it with all that bad blood –‘Enough for a vampire’s transfusion’ said my uncle, the culprit –but a promise is a promise. I had…