Sculptures - Poem by Neil Crawford
Spark fresh the rusting motor,
spoke anew the broken wheel,
with neither genesis or nemesis,
an outcome of the mass.
Grip the scrap and forge again,
out of the ash a phoenix rose,
I clipped its wings and called it'pure'
we watched it plunge from silver clouds.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You