From the February Issue of *Poetry*

Max Sawicky sawicky at
Tue Apr 11 15:09:51 PDT 2000

I'm gettin' misty. Let a hundred flowers bloom.


Lyrics in an american spring is a hardening test - icicles melted away.

Episodes burgeon. Cocks, cockerel, a hen. Woods turn green again.

Fervent passions anew. Breath-taking nature, deeply. Flat is the brad the poet handles slapping the saw - icily.

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