Tag Archives: civil twilight

Downtown Serenity Hour

Today’s investigation, a brand new skyway smells like a new car with music seeping through its air vents. It takes me through a different artery in the maze. Roots grow to the first floor becomes a pink lit W Hotel … Continue reading

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Power Out Wednesday

A transformer explodes, a squirrel dies, civil twilight crashes into darkness faster than my fingers can touch the right digits for relief. To open this book of scents written by a left hand to a stranger is exposure I might … Continue reading

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Tap Root

I will not ride a horse down a busy city street, won’t make it home before dark. Sky drama comes in many colors—iron and bronze in this civil twilight. And they sound more brilliant than I remember in December’s cold … Continue reading

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Pore

She peels an orange in the rain. The scent remains on her skin into civil twilight. Her orange raincoat fits perfectly across her shoulders—winter only seven days away. The color of any aroma captures her eye when she stands still … Continue reading

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Eleven Cubed

Whoever erased all thoughts of him from my head while I slept last night will become the new mystery I expand into an obsession before snow falls on another civil twilight. Could be spitting out toothpicks for all I care.

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Filed under Civil Twilight or Dawn Poems, Overnight Poems

Civil Delusion

Humor me—let’s pretend you’re not dead. I’m young enough to think I can still drink. To believe you think about me 30 minutes before dawn, 30 minutes after dusk. Not all promises will be broken. You’ll make me laugh more … Continue reading

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Air Mail Through an Open Window

If I die tonight, will we become lovers by tomorrow evening? Civil twilight to entwine two severed spirits. Counting finally done. To drink or not, new wine or old—it won’t matter. That age gap sewn up once and for all. … Continue reading

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When She Wears Her Name Inside Out

I see her eyes in the actor’s face. If looks could give birth to laughter, labor would begin in hidden murmurs there. The joy is in riding the Staten Island Ferry come winter or late fall. No one falls in … Continue reading

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Euphony

Suddenly evening crowds the street—a quickened descent—September acceleration into darkness cooling and smiling upward—there moon, there moon.

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Junction

My weakest hours come too bright, too central, too exposed—take me to the blue hour where I belong between definitions.

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