Monthly Archives: March 2017

Red Eye Open

I would like to say no words were harmed in the making of the poem. You see, I like words as much as some people like puppies and small children. As a grandfather, and something of a pushover I love … Continue reading

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The Poverty of Myth

Somehow, long before Campbell I knew a truth though without a way of knowing it. The power of a myth is its very poverty to takeaway what is and replace it with a lie. A myth is the lie that … Continue reading

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Devices

Can openers P-thirty-Eights and otherwise, radios left to, bastard files left to me,   an adz and a broken straight razor of undetermined destination.   Green ammo boxes with eighty years of non-weaponry, six broken watches, a small reel to … Continue reading

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The Red Chair

So much undone, always, I settle into my wingback.   I try not to recall the tax bill, dishes, inspections, editing, and still I think of responsibility for dead parents.   I tire trying not to think, knowing I will … Continue reading

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On a Table

Fish head, well body minus the meat, filleted, with the guts hanging about scales, scraped and piled on the old boards, in the wet sand where the ever slightly running, spigot drips. And flies, sitting quietly on the intestines buzzing … Continue reading

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Sometimes California

I was disappointed to find out while the characters more or less came over intact, the formatting did not. So I am posting these poems as pictures. I started to say I hope you can read them. I would be … Continue reading

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Sale/Trade

Trade: poetry for hard work. Yes,   folk think writing poems hard, I dug ditches, nailed roofs, Florida sun, even sold used cars to sailors. Will trade for hard work: poetry.  

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