1
poplars,
winter.
a deep bare death reaches out
from the ground, a stretching tree.
when I go down in stone when
the cobbles click a cold red robin
will perch upon my stone
2
resist, tame:
kissers, fighters,
banshees, licenses,
skillets, the angry,
beauty in a ditch, country clubs,
and all that does not warrior
its way toward darkness.
3
to be whiteblooded
is to rely on every
thing, except the heart.
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