Monthly Archives: July 2011

As the Shadows, Long

god, the uni­verse, the not-me, the power, the void, noth­ing at all: Like the arm on a skeet trap fling­ing clay, auto­matic, relent­less fling­ing a spin­ning disc to water, fly­ing, the crit­i­cal first few rev-o-lu-tions deter­mine entry angle, pro­vid­ing work for sooth­say­ers who … Con­tinue read­ing

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Part (for Jean)

In spite of the sure­ness of this ground and what I can see and the breath in my mouth and the love of my child, In spite of the sor­row that blan­kets the sick, the poor, the lonely; my god, … Con­tinue read­ing

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Boat

Most of what I imag­ine to be impos­si­ble results from a lack of know­ing. How can a steel boat float? It can float because the water it dis­places is equal to its weight and it gets equal before the boat … Con­tinue read­ing

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Tree

What is the equa­tion that equals hope? I have never really under­stood hope. As a kid, I didn’t want to look for­ward to some­thing with an expec­ta­tion. Too easy to get burned. I didn’t hold any ideas about the presents … Con­tinue read­ing

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Summertime

I would sit some­where, quiet, always alone and think to myself: This sec­ond. I am never going to for­get, this sec­ond. I would try to put that moment onto some promi­nent, mural in my mem­ory so I could remem­ber it … Con­tinue read­ing

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Scarce

I was going to write this: It is my per­son­al­ity to try to fit in smaller spaces. Really though, I will write this: I try to fit in empty spaces, bar­ren, naked places. Some peo­ple use clut­ter to hide. I use a desert, maybe a … Con­tinue read­ing

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It’s A River

My ridicu­lous sep­a­rate­ness from you is the mirage, Laugh­ing behind me, always, is a river that waits for noth­ing. Mostly I am the last to know this, But maybe, for the wait­ing, I feel more it’s effort­less power to take … Con­tinue read­ing

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Skin

Exactly what lies Beneath the almost not there veneer of what you see? Com­fort finds me in the sheer folds of the cur­tain between you and me. ____________________________ As much as I want you to know me and as much … Con­tinue read­ing

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4th

Sum­mers are get­ting poignant. When I was younger the summer’s were relent­lessly, joy­ously mov­ing in one direc­tion, like a river. They unfolded new and with­out a past. Now I still float along in my sum­mer, but I am see­ing them through the … Con­tinue read­ing

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