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YES - A Poem by Hiro Boga | The International Association for Journal Writing
YES now this is what I feed myself: sleep in the nest of my feather bed; buttered cream of wheat with goat’s milk and cardamom beethoven quartets, shimmering jazz renata tebaldi’s legs wrapped around verdi. poems that bloom like roadside daisies jane hirshfield, seamus heaney basho. rilke white chrysanthemums in a blue vase my fingers …