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guilty sun

this black blanket gets stripped back
and there is the sun
filling every little nook
like a gold water tide
birds wake and sing
even before! and plants
get warm and grow
everything anticipates
one way or another
some wake some scurry bed
tide comes

17 Aug 07

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i like this, except for the ending, which seems rushed to finish. there's a simplicity in thought and rhyme, and a wonderful first image, the blanket of night is the night we know, sleeping through life in bed.

in a way, i think you could end it at: everything anticipates

where, it would be that you have faith that the reader has "gotten it", and shares your vision. again, the ending seems like a "rush to explain", and makes it lose its poetry for me.
 — joey