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by Joesph Bathanti 06-01-1992
A poem

Cycling into a straight
where an edge of sunflowers plows

four miles along a field of silage
I see the hot air balloon,

red and yellow herringboned,
slashing blue sideways

like a breech-baby fighting
for the ballast to right itself.


by Joesph Bathanti 07-01-1988

A poem