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Haiku Free Verse Prosies
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She fell forever. No, this time there was no drop from the precipice
it was only that her feet
began to tread more lightly upon the ground
and she knew the truth about that actor with his muscled,
chiseled torso - the one who'd come to save the world
and give it over into Light with all his loveliness.
She was called to the task.
It called her in her sleep, and she was helpless to deny
that fire in the belly,
that fire in the head. Joan of Arc
felt the same way,
and Howard Hughs with his rivets,
and Camille with her blocks of stone.
All of us touched by fire, each of us in our own way
Who are you to call us mad,
you whose thoughts have never risen above the mud
of the daily toothbrush?
Frances Donovan
July 2005
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