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The Night WatchThe darkest hour is yet to come.You've been asleep; the omission of time is your luxury. I stay awake. Listen to you breathe sometimes. Breathing. It's what I hope you'll do. I never know if you will stop like the end of a sentence. Seven seconds. Eight. A breath! I can release mine, now. Relax a little, Wait for the next breath So I can know we are both alive. October, 1999 |
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Issue #15, April, 2000 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.