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A blacksmith in my village / Cruden Bay / the Smiddy was warm on that cold December day / I was a boy / fashioned by youth, fascinated that HE so old could bewitch cold metal to radiate / to listen / for he hummed 'diddley diddley come what may' / and he pushed the bellows to play / a poor man / dressed in… sign in to read more »
I sit alone. My legs over the precipice. / Cap de Creus. / There's a piano playing blues somewhere. / Sirenas cries, / wipes the tears from my eyes. / Aphrodite sings, / half in, half out of the moonwater. / What song! What liberty! / My youth gone. / / The wild heather burns, / the pine is charcoal and… sign in to read more »