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Archive

Finding Ghazal

Of all the collages I’ve done, “Ghazal” is the one that made me lay my head in my hands and weep; I am the last line in my own poem. And, finally, I found a subject that I have been unconsciously avoiding: an exploration of my self.

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He calls for her

He calls for her as the shattered vase settles into a new cartography near the bed. A floorboard creaks. The day’s pangea just as changed.

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I waited and you did come back

I waited and you did come back, but not just you. There was God and an Italian orphaned of good looks & humor. We all had tea. I wept later.

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Calabash meets muslin

Calabash meets muslin & the water of the first cools the other…for a time. Muslin wants soaking, turns calabash upside: hollow & dry.

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The dirty angels in this town

The dirty angels in this town know the rust of abandoned train tracks, the silt of the lake in summer. Dreams, like windmills, moving slow.

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