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Archive for April, 2007

Sea Rose Rose, harsh rose marred and with stint of petals, meagre flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious than a wet rose single on a stem – you are caught in the drift. Stunted, with small leaf, you are flung on the sand, you are lifted in the crisp sand that drives in the [...]

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The Albatros Sometimes to entertain themselves, the men of the crew Lure upon the deck an unlucky albatross, one of those vast birds of the sea that follow unwearied the voyage through, Flying in slow and elegant circles above the mast. No sooner have they disentangled him from their nets Than this aerial colossus, shorn [...]

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  I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chatted all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow, And ne’er a word said she; But, oh! The things I learned from her, When sorrow walked with me. -Robert Browning Hamilton

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Argentine Woke up today to chatter in the clouds, a storm mouthing at my fingers I was god, hidden by night a serpent in a serpents mouth Work in the a.m. treading light thought I’d pieced you back together from good dreams Here I am, the gray power grows in me silver, argentine, and I [...]

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I am starting a series of short poems made visual called One-minute poems. You can see them here under Video or at Philthy Conversations with Artists.

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Traces Denting the edge of a sandflat, footprints pool with water cold as blood… -Peter Munro

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The Lost Son 1. The Flight At Woodlawn I Heard the dead cry: I was lulled by the slamming of iron, A slow drip over stones, Toads brooding wells. All the leaves stuck out their tongues; I shook the softening chalk of my bones, Saying, Snail, snail, glister me forward, Bird, soft-sigh me home, Worm, [...]

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White Apples when my father had been dead a week I woke with his voice in my ear I sat up in bed and held my breath and stared at the pale closed door white apples and the taste of stone if he called again I would put on my coat and galoshes -Donald Hall

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from The Man with the Blue Guitar I The man bent over his guitar, A shearsman of sorts. The day was green. They said, “You have a blue guitar, You do not play things as they are.” The man replied, “Things as they are Are changed upon the blue guitar.” And they said then, “But [...]

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Kore As I was walking I came upon chance walking the same road upon… -Robert Creeley

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