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Humboldt County, California, United States
Donna Kuhn is a poet, author, dancer, visual and video artist.

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email me:donnaskuhn@yahoo.com


Friday, August 14, 2009

the hollow coast is whining

scrambled holocaust, she solves me

with her power eye and it bothers her

freezing against leaves, u are a slow train

rivers are not genocides, skin the need

to advertise your wound, i never felt it

slow and thundered; u did not stop

for what i see; no ocean; u fear my superhighway

windmills wrote my ocean till it bothered me

unreasonable light, scrambling pinwheel

i think it's called execution; the hollow coast

is whining; i feel your religion fencing

in the closet when your word is with

this word; i feel the door, which door

i did not hear u like u make a river

u are yes and the storms are everyday how

i'm disappointing and the night is a tongue

rwanda, darfur; i have been with u and u

are most enlightened, a man with a wound

u are useful in my heart and in the past, yes

she is laundry written in goat endurance restraint

i am afraid of u and the days will not spread here

a thunderstorm pulled u; a source of dignity

in your eyes; i have felt the pinwheel

and the night's name; i know what is

coming in your religion; u don't need to worry

i know what to think, the holocaust told my head

the coast does not know how to wash her mistakes

u feel the germany of no holocaust, my head warns

my insides bother me; germany has seen my storms

and berated u; u don't know that at 8:18 am

right out of the leaves, the sea has to worsen

no one knows what to feel, a sense of scheduling

love with an overabundance of music and any

eyes see all; all, all of u he said to the water

so write the ocean; get slow and thundered

it's just what i dread, i said in my head

go define it dawned on me; you're not able

to listen; a woman whose name is the mountain

everything is a slow train, a hand, the night

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