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Haiku Free Verse Prosies
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You dream of walking, greenleafed, into the future.
You know you are at the crossroads--
But there is no clear path.
You dream of walking, corseted, into the future
crawling, really, reading Henry James and
aching under your whalebone,
hat brim lowered against the wind.
They used to burn things there.
The dust fell on everything,
even inside with the windows closed.
Never had you been so surrounded
by the aftermath of fire.
You bathe candles in salt water.
You light one and pray for harmony.
When the flame turns smokey,
you pinch it out with wettened fingertips.
A great crowd of people sat
under a gigantic plane tree, and as I appeared,
they cheered. Their cheering
shook the trees until all its
leaves fell to the ground.
Frances Donovan
November 1995
January 1996
September 1997
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