Phillip Chapman


Poem 15

Four loves sent me South, from up North came two songs
At a garden I began, first sunny then dark
To a garden I dare return, my options: die or try it.
I bend over to scratch these words in the sand:
Oh how this heart longs
The coming ring of a hymn of a lark
This ancient chant, grave yet light, release it now on iTunes. I'll buy it.
So listen as the trees read off their palms the songs of man, voiced by the wind:
From dust I came, son of the sullen earth

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