Posts
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τό καλόν, τό ἀληθές, τό ἀγαθόν (Transedentals)
The woman wears her skin
like a bathrobe.
She stands in the middle
of a golden field,
weeping fresh water.
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The Storm's Eye
The sky
blows in more snow,
a breath
from frozen elsewhere.
There is a storm
raging
inside the silent rage
of the storm,
inside God’s eye,
unopened.
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Cubism
‘"With your pictures you apparently want to arouse in us a feeling of having to swallow rope or drink kerosene.”
– Braque to Picasso
Maybe it’s as simple as this:
Maybe God’s hundredth name is His face. -
At the Altar
Oh Lord of Windows,
Oh Window,
Oh Mirror with Drawn Curtains,
maybe if I keep tapping,
keep drumming my fingers on your altar,
you’ll wake up. Maybe -
The Farmer's Market
my uncle grabbed a bag
of fiddleheads,
tender beginnings,
at the farmer’s market,
said he was going
to fry them
with honey, pink-
peppercorn, and salt.
the farmers bring dirt -
Mixed Metaphors Chapter 1
A light mist was pouring in off the Caspian sea. I closed my click, sighing into the dark as I pulled on a yellow, wide-legged, vinyl jumpsuit.
Loves
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Summer Camp
The dirty gravel path crunches under the tires of our Toyota. Dust rises around the car, blurring the tall vibrant trees hugging the road.
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Half-Remembered Memory
After Robert Frost's Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening
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i can't remember when i last said the pledge of allegiance
i know all the words, of course. who doesn't? we are practically
brainwashed into our knowing, having to stand and face the flag
(when did you learn that it was hand over heart &
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Edge of the world
The edge of the world
is not a finality;
it's a beginning.
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Somedays- In the Style of Mary Oliver
Somedays
are made for shouting the passion of my human condition
from the rooftops.
Do not forget to wonder,
in your busy lives,
at the handsome brown spider
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going today
I’m going today
But as I pack my bags, I
Marvel at the land