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Snowbound, Captured in Tintype


Count the names of the broken

Speak in the vein of motion

less swift silence through snow

One guilt ridden

One proud

One calling in the wilderness

One put out to pasture

For the days of his glory are over

The days of her beauty are

Tucked behind all the women who came after




We are halfway to

Death

And we still don’t know the way to

Truth

















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