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in a low himalaya


ISSUE:  Winter 2015

my son breathes to leave me
to leave the lean-to
of family: extended and penal 
he leaves to breathe up on the highlands   
one among many wandering 
breathers and sitters who sleep in the rain: gone 
in the tide of the primal 
my son washes his hands of the west wind 
breathes in 
the sorrows I gave him
the breathing once hovered over 
he rocks back and forth  
squinting as he shines in the rain  
a rain frail
with potential / total and pale 
and unnoticed…
closing his eyes / inhaling: he 
holds our breath 

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