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  • Gary Hunter

Sometimes I wish - July 1, 2020

I wouldn’t keep insisting life pose

while I sketch one more portrait

with my words

that I could someday

throw away my pen

and tag along

not stop and fiddle with her posture

or hair for another picture for posterity

but like chopping and splitting

a modest pile of wood who wants to

be the one to report they’ve run out

logs to throw on the fire

on the bitterest of winter nights


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how the poppies bloom where Indians once battled shades of soft scarlet

Life on a Bookshelf - July 30, 2020

It was a Saturday morning when I asked some of my fellow-bound book buddies if they wanted to get out and go exploring so we leaped off our ledge and straight into the river of knowledge. Drifting by

Suddenly this Moment - July 29, 2020

the breath knows not to wander lips to stay pressed eyes to put their feet up and when there are no grains of shifting sands in the mind my day rests inside me


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