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Archive for February, 2009

Fare thee well Fare thee well Old friend of mine My comrade all these years Who stood by me in happy times And shared my lonely tears As we part Remember not The sadness of this day Think not my friend Of this as the end But The beginning of a new way Remember The [...]

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Solitaries A half-golden window. Lined, shadow-speckled The gray corona’s eye lay, paling at the sill There must have been roaches, cicadas, air, squirrels, Oriels and ants almost dancing to breezes. Higher in fronds of gold, among stones, Youth among the many-hidden lives. Her yard under years, a foot stirred the stones. Though she is planted [...]

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The Beekeeper’s Daughter A garden of mouthings. Purple, scarlet-speckled, black The great corollas dilate, peeling back their silks. Their musk encroaches, circle after circle, A well of scents almost too dense to breathe in. (continue) -Sylvia Plath

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2.14.09 etre-vouloir-dire To be tired; tied to oblivion. To be outfoxed by mediocrity. Seduced by law. To be the last sure thing you knew, and to let that go, trading it in for tighter straps that only sometimes worked. To be so full of something, call it conviction, that you knew language would be yours. [...]

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The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. [...]

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Painters In the cave with a long-ago flare a woman stands, her arms up. Red twig, black twig, brown twig. A wall of leaping darkness over her. (continue) -Muriel Rukeyser

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I imagine Obama Was lonely Tall, brown, but not Hawaii brown, And quiet. His grandpa Was his father, his mother There and gone, and he was Prone to contemplation and looking At the sky. And I imagine he had no idea. -Nina Alvarez

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Done With My house is torn down– Plaster sifting, the pillars broken, Beams jagged, the wall crushed by the bulldozer. The whole roof has fallen On the hall and the kitchen The bedrooms, the parlor. They are trampling the garden– My mother’s lilac, my father’s grapevine, The freesias, the jonquils, the grasses. Hot asphalt goes [...]

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