Author Archives: stephenarcher

Self portrait Un-numbered 1

This is a picture of me. They all are. I can’t make a picture, I can’t, that isn’t of me. I can’t say anything that isn’t about me. Everything I say is about me. Saying it sounds so endlessly self … Continue reading

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Still and Always and Again

The moon punches out a rim of French-pedicured while light familiar and elegant in her way and under her, but not beneath her, every imaginable dirty unraveling, unwinding and winding, every rushing importance and impotence, every dead line runs itself … Continue reading

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Free

At what point do I cross the line from being small to being me?  Am I ready to be all of me?  Am I ready to give up and fly free, to be all of me, to play big?  I … Continue reading

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F l o w

Blood flows through me and I don’t know about it and I can’t live without it. Some people cut themselves to be sure about the living part. Feelings flow through me and I may not know about it. Is there … Continue reading

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Deschutes River Noon

If what is dark and riddled now can Give way to something gold In a moment, once in a while, I am more than ok. But if it never does and Sometimes it never does and Dark stays the same, … Continue reading

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There’s A Thin Line Between

I sat in the hot pools at Breitenbush with various kind souls recently. The stars hid behind a blank, dark sky. It was comforting, the blankness. The moon was new and absent. It rained. I rested.  All the doing stopped; … Continue reading

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Escutcheon

Escutcheon Battle worn and battered and rusted somewhat; the rain affects me more than it once did. All the fools I believe surround me are themselves surrounded and I am one of those in the circle around the fools who … Continue reading

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Untitled Poem

One time I thought one thing mattered and that thing gave way, gave way like a diving board pulled from the diver when she was to spring to highest heights, it gave way like that to something else, this other … Continue reading

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Christmas Eve

I met a man in the ER. He has multiple sclerosis, which is a random marauder that targets the nerves. He was bed-bound, but more on that in a minute. He had belly pain which is what i was called … Continue reading

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Pretty Good Flower

The night falls on my time alone. They are the same, the time, the night. I have I take I request I make I demand I require this time and because you know me I never get past “I have”… … Continue reading

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