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Issue # 3 January 2011
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

R. Nemo Hill


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'All upright things are bent and bowed by wind...'

All upright things are bent and bowed by wind.
Who taught your hair to argue with the wind?

Be still now. Let this rose collapse.
Why whisper in an overwhelming wind?

Here is the place we built, and here we knelt
till storms arrived to simplify with wind.

Each breath I draw now is a corner turned
too suddenly, face first, to meet warm wind.

How long can one frail singer's voice pretend
that anyone can rearrange the wind?

Each night the tops of trees begin again
the task of ending somewhere in the wind.

Here is no man. He slips right through your arms.
He can't control the volume of the wind.