Monday, January 18, 2010


The wind blew,
but not just by his house.
He knew it was blowing
in Nebraska, and near
an old broken man in Maine,
and behind the eyes of someone
whose family has forgotten her,
someone who lives in this world
like a wind herself,
a gust that goes by you
and you keep going
to the store to get groceries,
and she blows out
across a sea with no shores.
He sat with his book
and listened to the wind,
the words calling out
like lost friends.

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