Monthly Archives: June 2010

Tinderbox

Kerouac sees punks in his 20th chorus— all those who would fit on a page of a breast  pocket notebook. Leftover ones dancing on the head of a pin, I’ll get over this disdain. I’ll listen again when amphitheaters begin … Continue reading

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River Salvation

Three turtles on the back of a fallen wish bone branch, I’m looking down  river  again. The chain of lakes does not captivate. Without an ocean,  my roots  go thirsting for a source deep in the mud. Home  is wherever … Continue reading

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Filed under Afternoon Poems

Onomatopoeia

She takes the high road through fog infested woods. Nothing visible  but the flight of leaves as she rounds curves  and moves on. That whoosh is the voice of vertigo she leaves behind when it’s time to make a new … Continue reading

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Guardian Angel with a Blues Harp

—not a lute. Storms have passed. Acoustic mass wraps black and tangles up inside  the brick wall. Some of it will seep through. More will remain the ivy of darkness outside  my window. Alone, I risk  the walk outside at … Continue reading

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Cul de Sac

She might choose it if the other ones prove too  paved, or too ragged without sidewalks. She can’t  be without sidewalks. Not for very long. He built it—  he can curve around it and drive in the opposite direction  off … Continue reading

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Just So You Know

Always hated fire works, always will. I’ll be staying  away. One bad jump off a life guard stand into State  Beach sand, a twisted ankle no amount of eye candy color  over the ocean could soothe. Never mind the explosions. … Continue reading

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Filed under Night Poems

Off Season

Hollow women seek distractions in you. Numbed into summer is no way  to look at the moon each night. That hill won’t hold all these heavy limbs and lids. I’ll be the one to rebel—I don’t want to be distracted.  … Continue reading

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Filed under Civil Twilight or Dawn Poems

Aphasic (Day 2,773)

Numb’s the word. Just past summer  solstice, no rain, muck blows off  as a dusty burst of thoughts you may have—but  they will remain trapped in a cephalic void. The conversation  is over. I’m not ready.  My jaw aches from clenching  … Continue reading

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Another Scramble

Meet me at the bus stop where we won’t wait to see another quarter moon translate the sky  into a language for pedestrians without a bridge. We won’t wait for anything—we’ll be walking across  12 lanes of traffic, all lights … Continue reading

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Filed under Night Poems

Withholdings

A straight shooter, she imagines everything becomes visible on her face. Imagines she casts  no shadow, is exposed even when it rains.  But  into those blind spots go whole narratives unfolding with characters she didn’t invent  roaming places she’s afraid … Continue reading

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Filed under Overnight Poems