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Tom Clausen
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how ironic
coming to love this life and world and at the same time letting it go while planting bulbs my wife unearths a childhood cap gun of mine I hold it trying to grasp back then scribbling, that's it, what I do, and tell the inquisitive stranger who asks I smile broadly at one, then another and another, this fascination with faces smiling back what attracted me most to the poem had not so much to do with the poem but that she liked it blowing across the plowed field a sheet of newspaper with who knows what kind of news I asked him about his day what he did if he got enough sleep and in response a soulful look and purring high clouds one horse leans in against another– before our children my wife and I were like that with thunder very close our little dog gets under my legs, if only I could feel so safe with myself
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