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The Moments We Created and other poems

The Moments We Created and other poems

The Moments We Created 


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Love is the lighting of fires 
over cold coals, 

the entrancing night air breathing 
your neck warm, 

it is the way you lay
& the ways we come together. 

We Once


We once planted flowers together.  /  They grew like ships at harbor. 
We drank wine by the garden in other days.  /  Now we sleep apart. 
We sought out moments,  /  some we found, others were lost. 

That was the way we moved.  /  We grew apart, stems floated & down. 
That you had come was not unnoticed.  /  All that I had was frost. 
That, blossoms long gone.  /  If only we had seen the road ahead. 

All the ways we left it.  /  Course sugar in the coffee cup, we tried. 
All those items we gave each other.  /  Too dear to us to do much with. 
All our flowers we grew.  /  The sun stopped coming out for them. 


Mourning // Something


The small mourning dove sat on the powerline
running from the apartment building to the street,

ignoring the rain that falls in a wet, moving wall.
They continue sitting there, just being in the rain. 

Solemnity exposes a common spelling mistake:
it is in mourning, not coming from the morning. 

When I returned slightly later, the bird had flown, 
leaving the wire empty, waiting; the raining still.  

Dishes


Movies love a bad guy; 
or, at least audiences do. 
Temporarily. 

Sleeping trying to sleep, 
isn’t a great way to get to dreams. 
But, so is the way of the world where the bed moves into the
kitchen for the simple purpose of keeping you up 
to do the dishes you left there.

In Place of a Goodbye (From Ljubljana Notebook)


1:
The Last day,

I went to say goodbye. 

It is raining, 

as it was when I arrived.

2: 
Walking by Prešeren, 

see the tree in stone,

for the first time

passing away from the square. 

The Deaths on Each Street


You put one petal in front of the other, 
lay them towards the ground
& watch as they bloom in motion; 

make landfall on shores of rivers long ago 
build to withstand all assaults, yet
the stars still collide with the asphalt daily. 


Against the Deaths & Violence // A New Season 


Let those mists fall out onto the open fields, we won’t water them otherwise. 

The land is spaced to keep itself drinking but we are without a drop to be drunk. 

The beginning of a most unusual year is no less the time for revelry than others. 


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