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Telnet at Midnight
You bring me words on an onyx plate,
Floating green in a pool of darkness,
Their edges knifing clean against the black.
They nip those caught in the ether without a raft,
With no way to keep heads up, breathing air.
I love this noplace, my home of first choice
And last resort. Your words punch the breath
Right out of my lines. They leave me mute
And stunned. Oh, see how well you used them,
stoning me senseless without one bruise.
~Nancy Williams
Nancy Williams is a longtime journalist, writer and artist whose heart lives on the Colorado Plateau. Email.
© 2000 by Nancy Williams. All Rights Reserved.
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© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 23, 2002.
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