I knew a woman,
as no one has ever known me-
voraciously vague, a noise
in her like the proud-Mary she grew
hearing winding up the Mississippi,
not so far off from where Miles
Davis grew hearing the music,
I hear tell
Wild plum still blossoms on
my lips from yours on mine,
all the tales of St.Louis a-rest
on this tongue,
erotic scribes, falling
leaves at autumn
-from [If It Be You]
by Dontrell Lovet't
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