They go down the hill, their baskets filled with apples.
One onyx-green apple one wax-red apple: and behind them
apple trees.
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Ode, of My Country
By José Kozer and Peter Boyle
In the afternoon in the burn-off they fired the cane fields.The bride stepped out the front door, entranced. Already have an account? Log in Join KR for even more to […]
The Tailor’s Requiem
By José Kozer and Peter Boyle
This man, on the warp unravels the threads that would need the bias to shape the fabric (then) they call for the cutter to run his shears down the path […]
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