As I said in a previous post, I came to writing poetry mostly by accident, when a key flew off my typewriter in the midst of a writing project. For most writing, I am typing-dependent,which meant that I pushed the project I was working on aside and wrote the following poem after coming in from a walk in my Minneapolis neighborhood.

A Song

to be sung softly in the morning or before going

to bed, to the accompaniment of a flute and an

ancient stringed instrument.


Night-coming son

moon r...


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