| The Poetry of Richard Sansom Published by The British Sansom Society | |
 
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| Poetess She was a tinsel thing, featherless bird carried on crystal mornings, blue iris mornings, mornings of suddenness held like a jewel of great renown. Over her light there spilled a wondrous gown across the earth and she caught everything in baskets of light, prismed into bracelets, poured into goblets, her light, Then she left a spear, a ribboned spear thrown up to catch what remained. | |
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