Category: Muse
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My window at night, vi
Dark light dark light dark light dark light aspen leaves flip and turn back and forth and around, soft sequins mirroring the six-sided moon, imperceptible, but just enough to slow time, open hazy wonder — dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light —
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My window at night, v
Is it time yet? As I study you, I think not. You have decided not to show yourself, and I can see no further into you. Let us wait together, and here and there take turns teasing, poking, putting on — and perhaps by accident reveal a surprise to us both. —————————- This is part…
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My window at night, iv
Breathe air into my words. Give them spaciousness, room to roam and be flexed, to be held, warmed, to have fingers run across them, pausing, to know the sense of being swallowed bit by bit, or held on the tongue. Let them open up onto the prairie to play in all the adventure of the…
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St. John of Blackberry Jam, repost
Hand raised,palm forward —you call us to be blessed. Eyes knowing,from the other world —you see within. Gold rim of the lampshadecrowning your tussled hair —your soft presence draws us near. Blackberry jamsmeared across your lips(and cheeks) —all angels beseech you. Perfect beingwith sticky fingers —bless us. ————————————- Today we are packing up to bring…
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The poet’s house
Spare enough for frozen flower branches to scratch the icy kitchen window, rain-soaked goldenrod to brush against her dress, evenings of lost, tender fears spying down the empty lane, long, hot afternoon delays, awaiting a dry spell to take up the mowing, the mending, the swinging. Wide open, ever-joyful tedium. The birches down the pasture…
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My window at night, iii
Should I leave chocolates for you, some other ridiculous sacrifice? Perhaps you just need a favor? You are not who I am here to please, but my emptiness is complete without you. Indeed, a small cup of coffee with you is eternity, a cure for my numb and pedantic self of origin. So what must…
