In his fifth year the son, deep in the backseat
of his father's Ford and the mysterium
of time, holds time in memory with words,
night, this night, on the way to a stalled rig south
...
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This is just another amazing piece of writing. I am so enjoying reading your poetry.
Your lines are so full with life. I love your title- it's so perfect. I always loved that word- occult! Hidden blood of the past, that flows in secret, in little beating memories ;)