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Something about shadows and last time and driving.

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Mirror, Handheld

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the making by taking away


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stray fingertips undid your name and wept

Voices of the Dying

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raging on road and page

Hell We Were American

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We danced the pee dance after too much Seven Up and tasted odd Jello dishes.

Three Micros

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I asked the hospice nurse about maggots.

Four Brief Poems

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The eyes, luminous and large- each an infinite bright blue ocean Wind ruffles feathers My ego and vanity also/ encourage me not to wear a mask. An aberration/ that general circumstances/ will remedy, and soon.

Nola Visit

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The little Lady and I drove down to New Orleans to take in the Mardi Gras festivities we’d read so much about.

21st Century Schizoid Sonnet

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freeze the tongues

One old and one new

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served as it is/ among these friends. The frayed filaments/ tickle my chin and irritate my nostrils,

Neatly Creased Newspapers

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A thin line separated her lips, like something sketched with a pencil.

A dress

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My poetry is bare, showing its pink and purplish imperfections and its injuries. I buy it a dress to hide its bruises, to ornate it a little, to make it smile. On its rather ugly and mishaped body, the dress looks comical, ridiculous, clumsy, like a bird with a broken wing.…

Found - Guano

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Snail ooze and bull semen

More About Nils Whose Real Name is Georges

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I think he viewed Communion as an act of hygiene that allowed him to go on being fiery and self-determined.

The Ballad of the Summer Grains

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It is a day of swallows and grasshoppers, of white clouds and suntanned arms. In the yellow field wheat ears burn, lit by fantasies. One of wheat, one of rye. Summer love, holiday love is in the air. Under the thickness of the harvest, their roots search, call each other.…

Stroke One, Stroke Two, Stroke Three

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On Monday, May 7, 2018, at the age of 67, I had a stroke.

Ways of Seeing: Carracci

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I have become interested in Carracci / Ludovico Carracci

Collect Enough Fragments, You've Got Yourself a Poem

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I. The sun's corona. Empty boxes near the firehouse. Red birth. A bird's lost wing. II. The bitterness of littleness. Apples in a pile.Early love.A spider, swinging. III. A father's harshness.Twelve bills unpaid. Leaves in a crevice. A dream…

Origin Story

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My father taught me how to solder and that's when I first started to write. Now, when you hold the soldering iron in your hand and depress the trigger, the tip of the gun heats up. Novices uncoil the solder and place it on the hot tip, but that just results in it…

Arrivals and Departures

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Because of her I got there early, and like I figured, the train was late.

Unconscious Primate Pandemic Panic

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I wrap my left foot


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it is said to make your manliness last forever

Two Summer Poems When I Wanted Three

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That summer...

The bamboo stick

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I no longer go for walks without my bamboo stick. Tightly held in my hand, thin and light, it beats the invisible particles which try to land on me and bite. My face is hidden as in shame under a rough gag, my hands are getting rusty, missing the touch of other hands. My…

The Dog

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The dog is reading. This morning, as every morning, the book is open in front of him. Well before his master's rise, he had already read the moon then dawn and the clouds. Now the slippers, these that walk here and there. Followed by coffee and the pages that turn. A little…

far beyond

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far beyond the far beyond sparkles the stars like sparkles

The curtain

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In the evening the curtain recounts its day. Faces, images, incidents it has observed from the window. Its voice is nuanced, modulated, quivering, for it is made of lace. It appears to crochet its words with needle sounds. My eyes, during confinement, are not wide open, not…


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pain and anger


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As if reaching for the Divine was the problem