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	John McKernan The Civil War In Nebraska was waged With a particular ferocity The absent trees Hid their shadows Beneath acres of prairie grass The coffin makers were all on strike They buried their saws & hammers Dreamed of becoming a telegram Inside an acorn hitchhiking to Oregon The earth kept hugging All the skulls of buffalo beaver bear Sometimes Right along a river bank A spray of moonlight would accent A necklace of fox bones high up in an eagle’s nest Return to Volume 5.3


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