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Concussion Song

a body works its way
across the steep bank the figure
slants along the shale
runs down to water

figure between the sun and water
center the eclipse
a shadow cast
the wrinkled stream

cool water warm sun
swallow that around one's body
does the foreground hear
what the background sings

the shapes are up
the lightening path
a bundle of white
nerves across the sky

how behold
the water enters water
march of circles
that run along now

This poem appears in the 2002 Anthology
View all poems by Andy Fogle