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ISSUE:  Autumn 1958

Girl, if this tree
grows evil, if
knowing, you
may only see
some devil, and
if your first taste
is sin, then

one taste is two,
to keep’s to give,
forever went
down with the sun,
all light is dark,
haste is slow,
to find’s to lose,
and sight must blind.

But logic never
grew on trees:
where dark is light,
unending learners
taste to know
(though not in mind)
how blindly love
must give to keep
what two, as one
in losing, find.


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