"is there distance in his head?" S. Heaney
feel insect hunger
naked, peeling, feeding
as if meadows sprung
impressed, caressed.
a traveler’s daughter,
unsent letter addressed,
travels with daughter.
‘No one once faces,’ she said
unraveling yarn
the year at end,
again. ‘What did I not say,’
I should have said.
erratic granite
folds of billowed ulster
no common refrain.
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