Jun. 5th, 2005

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I celebrate the genius who stumbled on the art of cheesemaking 'Well let's just store some rancid milk in the stomach of the goat I slaughtered today' Not obviously intuitive

It's the season when the sky doesn't truly darken Walking along Cornish lanes to Padstow

We sit late, watching the dark slowly unfold:
No clock counts this.
When kisses are repeated and the arms hold
There is no telling where time is.

It is midsummer: the leaves hang big and still:
Behind the eye a star,
Under the silk of the wrist a sea, tell
Time is nowhere.

We stand; leaves have not timed the summer.
No clock now needs
Tell we have only what we remember:
Minutes uproaring with our heads

Like an unfortunate King's and his Queen's
When the senseless mob rules;
And quietly the trees casting their crowns
Into the pools.

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paulie123

August 2016

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