Each time
I started to
To say something
There is yelling
Voices bewailing their dead
Guns go off
Or cannons roar
Not cannons. Rather things
So up-to-date and fierce
I don’t even know what they’re rightly called
Sometimes I can hear
People begging for their lives
From those there to harm them
And from those that cannot hear them
I open my mouth to say something
And then I shut it again
__
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ode to my summer
the tree golden in early summer a leafy umbilicus into light summer weeks stall forever no...
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