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Poem: Geography 


The ocean, south of the Tropic of Capricorn,
is nearly everywhere. No wonder the fictions,
such as Poe’s, spoke of habitable lands
at the highest latitudes. Aborigines, in huts,

greeted the fleets, in their home-woven trousers,
and showed them hospitality, their best shindig,
knowing the explorers raged for 90 degrees
south, where a mermaid would flap her fin

and the dramatic expanse of our conquest
would meet the dark wind of a far place.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Steve Clark


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