Steep Cliffs | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram
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Steep Cliffs 

I have fallen
short of myself.

Not in perception of,
or conception, nor invention

of putting together
a cultured life

with meaningful endings.
But rather

it has been blinding technicalities
that tilt me far downward,

tripping me up, until
all that’s left

are piles of causations:
those false ideas dancing

from my aching mouth
like blue mist arid confetti.

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