The Diachronic Barber Pole Observations of a Recovering Hockey Exile

My Country

October 28, 2011, by Homme de Sept-Îles

 you can wear it on a lapel
   it's always red always white
 it can flutter
               or breeze high
        a song
        a clap
               avalanche thunder
       silence  poked  flower snow in the sun
    but  never rectangle
                         always  one






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