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Never split an infinitive, unless you
have thread, or seam
you don’t mind letting the junk hang loose from.
Be careful of which f..
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It wasn’t so much the questions
I asked then: who had had who when
seemed obvious enough. At thirteen,
how far apples fell from the t..
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Unsettled, raggedly rakish I’d say.
A perpetual peter puck, capering from pan
to pan, forever in flux, never landing
longer than abso..
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Not to quibble, make too much of
how you like to read everything right
to left, but …
knowing how things end up before
you&..
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A stag in the late light,
suddenly centered, waiting.
Tears spring to his eyes. Life’s end,
the abstraction of being, until this mom..
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Some waves, certain gales, you can’t tempt or dareleave to fate. You can of course, if so inclined,swallow the minnow, run up your colors, andsa..
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Sometimes, listening to the cracks breakingfree of the box they’d been consigned to keep,I recognize the complications of beingtied to a flesh f..
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Who smoked the salmon? --It’s a question, alwayson the tip of the tongue, what comesto the old gray matter, whenever I’m confrontedby a bl..
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Perusing the stacks, loitering,a bit of idling speculationI might stumble across some lost artifact --Rimbaud’s gift to orphans --I came across ..
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Old loves, like old socks, are betterleft tucked away in a drawer,forgotten until necessityrequires clearing outthe psychic clutter.Trying to mend the..
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