Late Summer Fires (Les Murray Poems)
The paddocks shave black with a foam of smoke that stays, welling out of red-black wounds. In the white of ...
The paddocks shave black with a foam of smoke that stays, welling out of red-black wounds. In the white of ...
Back, in my fifties, fatter that I was then, I step on the sand, belch down slight horror to walk ...
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