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Something Blue

Very early in the morning, the lions hunt, hiding in the grass. Unless it’s the other way around. Who can possibly remember such details with the sun making so much noise? If you look into the distance, there’s something blue there, and it’s beautiful, a stillness that’s large and growing but still waiting to be discovered before it disappears. Maybe then we’ll all ride together on a float of roses in the funeral parade.



H o w i e   G o o d

Universal Themes
in Literature

prose poems

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