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Nodoubt its a very fantastic poem. It's my al time favourite! Its so simple, yet so profound. Long live my sweetest poet Les Murray!
The paddocks shave blackwith a foam of smoke that stays,welling out of red-black wounds. In the white of a droughtthis happens. The hardcourt game.Logs that fume are mostly cattle, inverted, stubby. Tree stumps are kilns.