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Or Waking There

Not of the marsh
or walking there.
Not of the heron
or the hare.
Not of the staying
or the where.
Not of whispered music
or time to prepare.
Not of the mayfly
or the loss of care.
Not of the solemn
or discarded pear.
Not of the barley
or flycatcher.
Not of evening’s toil
or the risen sun’s glare.
Not of a hilltop folly
or a solar flare.
Not of the echo
or the never were.
Not of the vale
or resting mare.
Not of this water
or the wading fair.
Not of time’s fractures
or that you are near.
Not of subtle flight
or our lion’s share.
Not of footsteps
or the coiled adder.
Not of the juniper tree
or false mother.
Not of circuits
or the now aware.
Not of your eyes
or the wanderer.
Not of the rhyme
or the written bare.
Not of the sweet
or ever-bitter.
Not of autumn
or this burning air.
Not of my kin
or when we tear.
Not of the marsh
or waking there.


About michaeleganpoetry

Liverpool based poet and editor. I have had four pamphlets of poetry published, most recently After Stikklestad (Knives, Forks and Spoons Press, 2010). Penned in the Margins published my first collection, Steak & Stations, in 2010.

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