The easy part is the digging – snowsilver spade slicing steamsoil. Dirt hardly parts – but sighs! Eucharine breath, epicene oil. The lissome lisp of shovel slipped into winesoftened silt. The easy part is the digging – straight-grained shaft stung by stone, bonequiver knock on bone and out the crown emptied unto Heaven with every chuck and throw. The easy part is the digging – brute-sunk shovel in soil. Psalm-sung singing of sinew. Instrument to sentiment. Lie-less rhythm without end. Monument to sediment. Lie-less rhythm without end
I love the way this poem sounds. And you know that when you titled the poem. But I have to admit, I had to look up Apheresis. This is a wonderful poem.
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I had to look it up, too. It was an accident. I can’t remember which word I was looking up, but apheresis was in a list of synonyms for it. I had to have it, right away.
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That’s awesome. Glad chance worked in your favor. Again, great poem.
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