Judy Grahn Poems

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She holds things together, collects bail,
makes the landlord patch the largest holes.
At the Sunday social she would spike

Paris and Helen

He called her: golden dawn
She called him: the wind whistles

He called her: heart of the sky
She called him: message bringer


The first four leaders had broken knees
The four old dams had broken knees
The flock would start to run, then freeze
The first four leaders had broken knees

Slowly: a plainsong from an older woman to a younger woman

am I not olden olden olden
it is unwanted.

wanting, wanting
am I not broken

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