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Back to where we belong
We’ve lived a week of wisdom teeth My lovely 20-year-old in her little girl white bed A child for one short week sleeps badly, faints from too many painkillers We savour rich chocolate ice cream, very strawberry gelato make chicken soup from scratch mash potatoes ’till they squish Pale-faced, cheeks puffed out to shame a chipmunk…
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A Poet @ the Festival
for John Newlove The first time I saw you, heard you read I found you old beyond your years to my surprise You wore your frailty poorly – the timbre of your voice, your hands trembling as leaves must before they fall I wished you‘d let me stand behind you place my arms under your…
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Urban Triptych
I A yellow canoe against the red brick wall promises early morning upon a quiet lake II By the side of the highway where kids with knapsacks thumb rides to God-knows-where, only bottled water(unopened), a ripe banana(intact), and a container with green grapes(washed) remain III The heady scent of sweet lilacs cannot dispel the image,…