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Tanglewood

10 Apr
	      rambling through
		took a walk
		 surprised by the sight
		 of ancient mossy forests tangled
		  with hotly-contested questions
		  as to where the path began
		   or ended, or diverged, or
		   whether there was a path,
		  and if it has a gender, or
		  if gender was merely
		 a social construct without
		 any bridge over
		  swampy marsh
		   since stuck my foot up
		    to the knee in oozing 
		    incorrectness --steering
		     some to fall headlong
		    because never trust
		   a tenderfoot with all-fired
		 matters of the heart





 
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Posted by on April 10, 2021 in Poetry

 

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