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It's been a while since I dove deep into a creative pool. But starting my official, formal education in poetry has awakened me again. As I compiled a list of literary magazines and publications that I'd like to see my name in before the next summer, I stumbled across this brilliant poem in The Sun. It's strange and wonderful how a few simple words arranged in just the right way can be more pleasing than sunshine after rain.
The Soul in a Body
"is like an old Russian immigrant
looking out his apartment’s only window.
Yes, yes, he says.
The landlord printed my name in block letters
on the lobby directory
decades ago.
All correspondence
has been forwarded to this address.
But I am not from here. I am not
from here at all."
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- Yehoshua November, "The Soul in a Body", (2016)