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Wallace Stevens

Vic Chesnutt

i saw a blackbird
thirteen ways
then strew a fist many
mountains away
my evangelism felled
brutally taken
by breezes that rubbed me
and lifted light raven

i stretched to borrow
fine antebelleum
to encase all the scrapings
of us civilised fellow
i wanted to stash them
to secretive cages
with that fabulous blackbird
of thirteen stages