This was written and sent around by an old friend, the poet and writer Frank Walsh:
THRESHOLD
Bits and pieces
Fashioned, compressed
Compound that
Fantasy past
Meantime, imaginations
Drift against us
From the great outdoors
someway as if from
nothing further than
the Truth than Beauty
limits alone
By which we might
Recreate ourselves
One after an other.
12.21.08
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