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from Shy Green FieldsHugh SteinbergIs the way to. Is it a switching? Places, continental, a kind of wilderness, I'm not afraid to read it that way. Sleep on rocks, the sun's so warm. To be just one, of ones. I am beloved. I am loved. Show me the thickets. To be without power, only increase. Where the materials peer out. You and you. Hugh Steinberg Read Bio Author Discusses Poems |
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