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LOOK,
GRIEF, ALIVE
Its
rôle, iniquitous in the dark scene’s rear,
cracking
the capsule of suggestion there
that
the creaking aisles should be drowned in gas;
or
paging the boards with messages
in
crevice tucked, come across, read,
how
one might scuttle pit, parapet,
was
good enough career for any grief.
...
(For full text see
the Kindle ebook The
Nature of Things (Collected Poems) by Alan Marshfield)
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