To make music from a bone
that’s hollowed out and cut with stops
is a kind of resurrection.
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To make music from a bone
that’s hollowed out and cut with stops
is a kind of resurrection.
No one told me I would reach
an age in which I seek out
birds, finding joy in gold dust
finches,….
If a learned man scans
the work of your mind and finds
the meter lacking (unrefined?)
put a wolf in your poem.