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Jenny Bornholdtonline works |
(Martinborough)Drawn in by a rag rug. Through the door to a thirsty lawn done in by summer to the river over burning stones to the moon a miracle that raises us to our feet each evening, leads us to the shed where we sleep, the scent of honey a light blanket we lie under, listen to plums fall on the dark floor of night. From These Days (VUP, 2000) © Jenny Bornholdt |
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