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KULTA
1988.
January. Day 27.
A
dark Wednesday kitchen. 5am.
Kulta
died.
Didn’t
you, baby? Hair in the
eyes,
fox-faced
scurry and grrr,
terse
terrier, little ruffian,
90
in man-years and loved like a child.
...
(For full text see
the Kindle ebook The
Nature of Things (Collected Poems) by Alan Marshfield)
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