POETRY DEAR OTHER Jerry Harp If I stopped believing in you, would the lights shine more brightly, the elder trees turn more feathery, everything thingier in the sun? Would you seize my...
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POETRY BOOK OF HOURS 32 Jerry Harp Digging dandelions summer by summer— I regard them, hundreds by now, thousands, but my work doesn’t do any good, our yard the same as when...
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Jerry Harp At the Arehabbey Stone crosses among pine trees stand in rain. A crow calls from a wooden shed and grabs the vagrant air with raging wings. The iron gate creaks. Even now, years...
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