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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 17:42:43 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 43871
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => New England Landscape
[time] => 2004-04-19 09:29:43
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => 5. New England Landscape He went by the woodshed hens picking near the fence to fetch the axe he carried down the slope taking shortcuts where the road wormed until he reached the clearing. His eye greeded on that perfect beech tree that had survived spring's felling. The sheen of smooth flexed strength, defiant erectness, which he walked over to head upright and slew with hard deep blows at even angles until the crackle started that splittered down through consciousness in fissures of remorse that drove him from unhampered sun to the cover of trees with low-slung branches to hide under. They found him cowering. The searchers said nothing, but waited for the father to appear reining dogs in on leashes clutched in his gloved hand. from: Collected Poems of Charles Cingolani [comments] => 0 [counter] => 155 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Charles [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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