It's real: the fury. Like the absence and breakdown of
chlorophyll in autumn leaves. The anger comes in spurts,
and spits out like growth.
Truth is ever only partially told, at best.

Here & There

Here a few poems,
there a few tears
what more do you need
to give shape to your life?


see 's./j. goldner' for my poems contributed 2004 - 2008
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