Monday, March 9, 2020

Words Not Spells Comments

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Hopes a tidal lake, a soft anchorage, the enclosure within the fjord's walls hemmed and hawed, a wizards place it seems.
where trees bent windward twist and gnarl,
by natures sculpting hand, to keep a precarious grip on life
what harm can words do I think as cliffs rise granite tight
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Paul Brookes
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