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Poetry by Edward Michael O’Durr Supranowicz

MAY 2008: POETRY Written in and by the Wind Pages do not turn themselves, and lovers must have lips in order to kiss. Really, time did not tick-tock until someone made a clock. But let's ignore the obvious. Come, listen to the wind. Listen to the arguments of what clings to the earth and what soars across the sky. To be alive is a paradox, a sleight-of-hand between the smoke and mirrors of birth and death. Every breath is a…