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Given arms, the sun would choose to grow many. Having many narrow arms, the sun would—at each limb’s end— flare into a palm and fingers, into the curves made for reaching. Extremities of flame, of shine. Hands that carry enough heat and light to give away. Be that sun. One small sun. —Paulann Petersen
Kindle, Mountains and Rivers Press, 2008
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Home | Books | Poems | Interviews & Articles | Events | Links | Oregon Poet Laureate | About Paulann |