Tag Archives: poeta

Tomatoes

I know Neruda wrote an ode to one. There is no reason to look, which would surely be discouraging. And it does take courage, this poetry game, to put words to what everyone else knows as well or better — love, … Continue reading

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January 451 (Mid-Winter Thaw)

Wet pavement glistens an unnatural rainbow of indigo, ultramarine, emerald and gold, an oily borealis shimmering in dull light. Clouds hang low, a heavy poultice on a bruised world. Thin pink strata presage the night, flaring to orange like the … Continue reading

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Longneck

1. Longneck bottle cast in the weeds along the old river walk. Brown glass in summer-brown grass, I wonder why it caught your eye. 2. Long-necked bird, swan at the foot of the bay. My daughter called me the cob … Continue reading

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Poets Write

Poetry is the kind of things poets write, according to Robert Frost, just what a taciturn New Englander might spin from wry lips, turning from his work restoring a stone wall to squint into weak autumn sun. You study the … Continue reading

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2 Poems:Mardi Gras/Ash Wednesday

FAT TUESDAY (written about 12 years ago and emailed to Mr. Codrescu in response to an NPR interview)       ASH WEDNESDAY (first appeared in qarrtsiluni by the name Twice Burned, with audio link as well) Last night I … Continue reading

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Poets Without Windows

I don’t think poets do well without windows, She said from her desk, watching the world go by. Here I am, on the street, a pedestrian peering in Though the old storefront with just this pane of glass Between us. … Continue reading

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Lorca en Nuena York

Bitter winter mornings, in my head, shoulders and down my spine, my pain is hewn in the shape of the cross. The cold pounds my hands and feet like nails. Is that how it went for you, Poeta en Nueva York, self-exiled … Continue reading

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