For the Mother of My Mother’s Mother

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For the Mother of My Mother’s Mother by Kenneth Patchen Wind. Flower. Pretty village.1847. This is the autumn, Jenny.Leaves scratchThe lowest star.Green are the leaves, Jenny. Pleasure in a warm young body… Dogs snapAt the Sullen moon.Cruel are the dogs, Jenny.They do their crazysad loveOver your sleeping face.Snow. Rain. A bad word. Jenny, my darling Jenny…Black are the leaves that…

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