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Tuesday, November 05, 2002


um,
now i can crumple up the paper page and throw it away.
one page a die.

werd.





back in the shadows of the lofty willow
when half its size
this camosun
place where camas is gathered
glass and metal edifice
was once a dreamy-dandelion lot
with swings and annexes
where the cripples once played
trapped, institute
unable to scale the cement walls
clamoured to morning glory
beneath the willow
that would allow a free child to frivolously
swing out, over
this silent orphaned dream
and back
to run, skip, two wheels
to tricycle away to broomed hills
one could gaze distant
to Baker
when she still burned bright.