“the pure products of america”

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“… while the imagination strains
after deer
going by fields of goldenrod in

the stifling heat of September
somehow
it seems to destroy us

It is only in isolate flecks that
something
is given off

No one
to witness
and adjust, no one to drive the car”

“To Elsie,” William Carlos Williams

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This entry was posted in children, Ohio, Poetry, writers and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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