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Trample Thistle Down

Updated on June 2, 2012

"Trample thistles down with sneers"

she says with laughs of falling beach glass

so I spin syllables of bless

while trotting on heels worn like hooves

"Every loss an open plain of salt grass chance"

she chuckles with eyes of morning meadow webs

so I twist the force of punch and turn to dance

smooth spins of resistance seem acceptance

Vive la France, vive la resístance! vive…

Oui Monsieur, möchten Sie einen Kaffee?

then another silent august death

hard to dance boxed under falling earth

More thistles for bare feet to dance upon...

I can almost hear her laugh at night.



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