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Nick Tselepides


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In the slight spring rain

the sky fades

as the light falls.


Old airfield. A bird

wanders among an

empty ammo box,


a rusting rudder, silent,

off-green, with part

of the fabric gone


and a discarded instrument

from a panel.

Tyre marks,

disused, discolored runway



the sound of the wind

swishing a cut



What do we know.



Nikos Tselepides , March. 03, Athens



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