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Freedom of Association
- Article from:
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Poetry
- Article date:
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July 1, 2005
- Author:
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Copyright informationCopyright Modern Poetry Association Jul/Aug 2005. Provided by ProQuest LLC. (Hide copyright information)
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I grew up on you, freedom.
A bowl of shredded freedom in the morning,
Roast freedom at the close of day.
Freedom favorable to the production of health,
Opium markets of freedom.
Freedom to look past those translucent floaters.
To smile at the homecoming queen.
The next day, freedom was nowhere to be seen.
In the woods the policemen went searching for poetry.
Freedom turned up in a small-town museum.
I once saw someone throw up in the colors of freedom.
Freedom came down hard.
Freedom hung a dream-catcher from the rear-view mirror.
Freedom was named for the last thing I ever seen.
I have restricted my thoughts to the topic of freedom.
I have lashed myself to the pole.
I will not tell a lie.
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