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272

an andrew crozier reader

Man’s energies have such bounds

More to be learnt

My wife’s cold hand in mine

Nature is penetrating, as the spirit moves

Nearly my arm’s length

New curtains darken the room all day

Nine digits and a request bring me

No point but in strength, to be any

Not been used for so long

Not here but not here

Now shadows curved into the light again

One of the great figures of history

One Two Three

Operetta Supercargo Aurora Container

Our father death speaks through the child our father

Overhead the sky merges through windows

Parallels converge and bend, the ‘line’

Pulses with the sphere’s dull shuttle

Punctual as returning something

Rags of time escaped down the shady walk

Rain on the roof, in April

Reflections absorb all the detail

Responses hasten our departure

Round the margins invisible apertures and leaks

Shadows eddy with reflections

She comes to me

She works at her maths patiently

Short flights of steps run up

Starting from a position very like a sequence

Startled by love of hawthorn

Streaks of yellow show through

Street lights reflected in the wet

The Americans go by in their cars

The antique store star is in his element

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