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by Sam Paisley

art by Milanne Berg

From low clouds thunder-torn 

Nothing more promised than this

When shallow hills cast mystery hidden by fog 

And a canyon of trees reaches up towards the sky from the river banks 

There is a cup of coffee left overflowing with rain 

At the window where I confide in nothing 

Someday comparison would demand I set myself on fire 

I'll set myself on fire by standing out in the pouring rain

Thirteen years ago I visited the moon 

In search of

Moonwalking solar self-energy 

Friends in a field, their shadows running long into the untilled

From a distance 

Their silk dresses more beautiful frozen than when they were worn 

We all cried out with the sun 

As August is the cruelest month when winter is ahead


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