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‘Swimming lessons’
not sure if we should call this swimming or drowning.
planes fly and land all the time
Jesus, the way (an extended poem)
a note on falling behind
honesty
Jesus was a carpenter.
hiding places
bracing
learning to stand
straight from my journal
poem for the heavy days
sleeping with your eyes open
most days I sleep until noon- a small collection
thorns
flowers for a twenty year old
poem for the worried
Doubt is an old friend.
jul 26th
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