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Abner's the Center of Nothing 

bevies of blue
leaves, which is a way

of holding it,
this drop in the road

toward that thing
called thought

that is ‘being in
the world’ and,

whittled happily
by the blue

reachings of

that may find it,

and on
and on

or it might be said
just resonances


quiet chords of trees
at field’s edge


bevies of blue leaves
and a ditch

dank with words

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Andrew Brenza.


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