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POETRY by Peter Layton

OCTOBER 2007: Tree Rings The once animals from before before, stepping in wet tar. Their eyes rolled back in the museums of clay and black bones. We become them as we sail the studio back lots late at night. Our mothers tucking us in. Or our wives. Our daughters. Did you ever see something so beautiful? The setting sun through her hair, the vague coalescing days in something like amber or deep cave crystal. Cast I can see the harbor…
Peter Layton
October 16, 2007