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Robin Holcomb



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Robin Holcomb

this Poem Is In Memory Of!

Rifle aimed at the ceiling
Just the One instrument
And you must have liked it here
And you stayed, sitting down

'old blue monk now there's a pretty song'
Warm wet shadows
The high bones of women beautifully wrapped
And smoke and powders

(Dance among these)

(Dance among these)

(Dance among these)

(Dance among these)