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It is The Winter


by Amine Ben Aniba

February 06, 2003

Rough edged cabbage
frayed mind
in hard ground
is the self-absorbed water,
what little is left
and faded color.
Once ripened,
now as quiet as death,
is the tissue of the brain.
Holds the concrete
as well as abstract
like no well
or painting by Picasso.
Encompasses the universe
within a pumpkin size shell.

Still there are chemicals there
which move about
that only a dog can hear
or a mountain climber
accustomed to thin air
and numbness.

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