Public Bar TV
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On a flaked ridge of the desert Outriders have found foul water. They say nothing; With the cactus and the petrified tree Crouch numbed by a wind howling all Visible horizons equally empty. The wind brings dust and nothing Of the wives, the children, the grandmothers With the ancestral bones, who months ago Left the last river, Coming at the pace of oxen.
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Credits
- Writers
- Ted Hughes