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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 10:18:12 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 5014
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Green
[time] => 2002-10-13 10:15:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => On days without wind
the cicadas would change the air gathering to themselves a resonance: a mandala of motion-- an opening of difference. Tributaries they were rising, swelling through a green inflection unfurling a secret bronze music: "We were born beneath the earth!" "We shall pass into the sky!" Perhaps, we are their dream. Perhaps, they are our memory. It is good to pause and listen. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 879 [topic] => 24 [informant] => alcibiades [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 406 [ratings] => 82 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LoveRemembered )
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