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This poem is taken from PN Review 228, Volume 42 Number 4, March - April 2016.

He Alone Shall Be Called Weather Caoilinn Hughes
I will show you fear in a handful of dust
– T.S. Eliot

The soil had been reached
down into
for its wet –
yolk beneath the flour mixture.
The ground had been worked like a beloved
bible to get through to
the deepdown democratic
scorch-douse cycle
that was unfailable as the great
White house, the great Wall
Street, Hims sung in Mississippi.
On-the-wagon-off-the-
wagon spells repeat
just like atoners wrongs’re
righted (even when the offsetting
happens out of view, way up where,
...


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