Posts
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Under a Highway
No light penetrates, waving goodbye at the entrance.
Like a monarch, it emerges at the other end.
In the flap of a wing, new possibilities unfurl.
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Recollection
Our lives: a collection of moments we cannot forget.
Or the storms - would be - for nothing.
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The Dead of Night
One voice whispers.
Gathers, threading a symphony on the wind.
They blanket our world in a mist of magic.
The howling peaks.
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A Dream
The ocean pulls forward and back in a rhythmic motion, lying beneath a spectacular sunset. We marvel at the sight of the setting sun, leaving traces of pink and gold along the clouds, tracing its paint-brushed fingers along the sky.
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The Poem Not Meant to Be a Poem
Where do all the ideas go; where do they come from? I wonder, staring at a blank, bland document. A great tree of life, sparkling above, forever tucked away, just out of reach? And then the leaves rain down. There!
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Crumbling
Falling leaves
Tickle and tease
As we finish Night together.
We speak in turns – or when the other cannot.
Loves
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book of poetry (breakup)
the title page has a heart drawn upon its yellowish hue,
C+M on an arrow, almost but not quite covering
TEN POEMS: VOLUME ONE and I turn the page quick,
eager to see this play out,
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It’s absurd
I think it’s absurd
How we define best
And how we define worst
You must be smart
But not too smart
Never ugly
But you can’t look too pretty
That means your trying to hard
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Now is a tree
Now is a tree,
a place that is made of history.
Feel with your fingers
for lines etched in the bark,
the future is there
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Vermont's World Tree
I’ve seen a million sunsets and sunrises, yet each day still dawns with new surprises. As the sun peaks its golden rays over the green mountains, Vermont’s future stretches out with new horizons.
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