Monthly Archives: July 2009

Nature’s Bethel

That she could define the sacred place inside her architecture of breathing, that she could steal her father’s Old Head cave—naturally programmed with thick Irish grass to cushion vistas of the Irish Sea— that she could claim even one piece of … Continue reading

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Laugh Phoenix

You are my laughing phoenix, I am yours. Our cackling woke the dead. Endlessly we cracked jokes waiting for the fire engines (not red) to arrive.  No, wait!  Hurry!  Get back inside.  Let the smoke choke us out of five … Continue reading

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Walking the Boards

We speak in waves                  over particles of breath,                                 briny breathing,                                                  this boardwalk holds up                                                                more than it will tell.  It’s the simple words in solid greens, gray blues, the color of sand after it rains, it’s … Continue reading

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Scratch (Day 2,426)

Graffiti isn’t graffiti unless she calls it. On an old water tower crowning an abandoned grain mill—  perhaps. “Erin I love you” attaching itself to the “and then it got very cool” end of Ashbery’s poem on a pedestrian  bridge—definitely. … Continue reading

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The Founding (Day 2,244)

He finds her one piece at a time along railroad tracks, in riverbeds, beneath piers, over gutters. It takes months to find her mouth, but the hands appear without effort. His search begins when he’s walking along the shoulder of … Continue reading

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Kokomo (Day 2,439: Take 2)

When I visit my sister next month, I will think of you still pretending  your banana seat bicycle with string-ray handle bars is a horse.

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Cone

I wrote a love poem to a tree. Now I’m learning not to wait for a reply.

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Parenthetical Place (Day 2,440: Take 3)

Everyone is (a) pedestrian. This corridor is mine to crawl through to touch the classless dream(.)

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Civil Twilight

A thirty-minute measure of time to get it done. She must pave the road from town center  to rain puddle is a swimming hole for her imaginary neighborhood. It’s time to get it done. Their world, her creation, is a … Continue reading

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Cedar Point Not Lost (Day 2,160: Take 3)

Sandusky is not merely amusement, not merely a beer garden, bathhouse, dance floor where the first lover would begin to break  my hope over cold water. Edging Lake Erie, a peninsula not an island  after all, Ohio’s tendency for hills. … Continue reading

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