poetry

A pause for thought

The slant of the sun. The moss-green mechanic with his fat cigar, chuffing like a chimney. The little kid threesome on the gravel shoulder, fist-pumping the diesel driver. and the undetected grasshopper atop my dusty boot. How slowly I move. I’ve never been here, but I know it.

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The way we are

If I tried to dream you out of whole cloth, what a disservice it would be. We speak in print, with proper letters and cadence. There‚Äôs ample time to consider a question or a statement, or to bid a goodnight without rudeness. I apply and project my idea of you, as a sculptor might, from […]

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