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Bitter Herbs to Eat, and Dipped in Honey

ISSUE:  Summer 2007

We lay out our own dark end,
guilt, and the happiness of guilt.
God never enters into it, nor
Do his pale hands and pale wings,
angel of the time he has become.

The wind doesn’t blow in the soul,
so no boat there for passage.
Half-paths of the half-moon, then,
To walk up and down in the forest,
to walk hard in the bright places.


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