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By

Strange breed II- Fern Born

that Mississippi ride/claw
of that Choctaw’s grip
her medicine had him whipped

arched and bent
like her cypress
pole to the water

ease into the saw
of the whine of the fiddle

blues harp tangled to the
tap and jingle
powdered sleep

flash of the thunder into Red Bayou
High John sits at the top of the temple

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