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The Budawangs

Russell Erwin

Jul 01 2013

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All that day scored by the undergrowth,

which was as much within ourselves

as the whipping and sly entanglements

and a cavernous bush occluding any sky,

we followed a map of a little sound,

of trickling water until dark

and slept when it seemed to slip

from us.

               Then in the morning,

like a nest hidden among thorns,

three feet away,

a pool of still water,

self-contained like wisdom,

calmly held our faces

as we drank.

Russell Erwin

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