by Lyn Lifshin
the week’s a
river of lost days
with little
taking me out
of myself
except what’s
not real. Still,
I can’t stop
trying to make
the word
flesh. And baby,
tho this is
the last page in
the notebook, I
think I’ll still
need a few
poems before I
can let you go
Thursday, December 3, 2009
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December
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- HE SAID IN THE HOSPITAL IT
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- THIS WEEK OF MY MOTHER’S BIRTH
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- WHEN THE DAYS BLUR
- he's fifty
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