20 April 2010

On the Piazza, Barefoot & Lanky



And I know I'll live in that little house, that pretty place, nested in the hills above the Sound. In its walls, I'll wonder at the role of the poet in trying times. And when dawn breaks, as it does, I'll be there too. On the piazza, barefoot and lanky, hair whipping my face, the sting a laud from the gods -- the song of my existence.

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