by Bryce Emley
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Is it prayer if I stand in the woods
and want to stay until it stops?
Once, someone told me I have a small heart.
Whenever I weep I press the moment like a garlic clove—
I want to feel, good God I want to feel,
to see how everything alive
becomes a landscape.
Whenever I weep I press the moment like a garlic clove—
I want to feel, good God I want to feel,
to see how everything alive
becomes a landscape.