Best Poem of M. Andre Vancrown

Poet To Poet
We trod a lonely road
witch-shadows strewn on mud-cracked soil
mingled in sunlight and darkling beams

Why bother asking after reasons?

A yellow room, drapery roiling
through the open window to blossom-
scented breezes, these and other things—

Return this promise of you and me.
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In the long Ice Age, fire served the Neanderthal—
It kept the wild beasts at bay, bathed caves of crystal
While he slept his slow sleep, nestled in fur and dreamt
Of belly-stalks crept in hushed creeps, the rise and hurl
Of stabbing sticks and flint... the plunge, the sprint, the taste
And chin-dribbling delight of r . . .
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