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poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Ploughing Across the Gap
Between old Monterey and Central Park
There must be other lands and other views
And different modes of discourse to be shared
Where surf and subway are not pillars of faith
Surely there are rough poets of the plough
Who speed it through the loam (and spell it “plow”)
Turning over words and ideas and love
And growing truth beyond the furrow’s end
A wheat field or an alligator slough -
Everyone is somewhere – so where are you?
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