I am hoping to get in the habit of closing out each week with a Friday poem.
ON EARTH
Resurrection of the little apple tree outside
my window, leaf-
light of late
in the April
called her eyes, forget
forget—
but how
How does one go
about dying?
Who on earth
is going to teach me—
The world
is filled with people
who have never died.
Franz Wright
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1 comment:
Good choice, Keith.
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