His mind is a rainbow of
you, valley of
symbolic
trickle, legs disappearing
across time
original
but
still
out of its soil – distance plays with
104 symphonies.
In the “silence”
you make, most break.
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was published by the Globe and Mail each Saturday. I cut out the column every week. They stopped printing it, and now I'm cutting up the critiques to make new poems.
