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Click hereGONE WEST 7601XX January 1976
By JCSTREET © 2004
The old mill has
crumbled
since you went west
The water
brown
what water there is a
trickle perhaps
not the torrent spring remembered
What WAS your name behind
those big round glasses . . . you
giggled sometimes
giggled
when you were a little drunk
The birds are down
Tipsy in a plummet the
old place isn’t quite the same
since the mill closed
Your footprints melted
last spring trickled
away into cubbyholes
What WAS your name going
home of an evening the moon
dancing like a sixpence
on the telephone wires
What WAS your name I
burned your letters I
can’t recall,
only the crumbling stone sometimes
brings a wisp of it
The west wind brings whispers: whispers
of life on the coast, a
nine pound baby boy
feeding on the sea . . .
your milk-full breasts;
another’s lips
--30—
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What Was your name. . .