Monthly Archives: August 2019

A Window is Open

I wake, and a window is open. Out on the wires two crows are invoking A moon from billions of years ago. Their voices are harsh from old hoping That wells in their throats and keeps them choking On words … Continue reading

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White Spruce Lingers

There is a place inside my head where The rain falls slowly all the time On rocks and fields and slanted roofs And through the inconstancy of trees. The rain falls slowly through dim green Spaces where the odor of … Continue reading

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August Mourning Doves

1. August mourning doves Contemplate the coming dawn An ache swells my throat Listen—fields of corn grow tall Under the thin-bladed moon 2. August sleep is sparse Mourning doves murmur at dawn As I lie awake Hearing the corn ripen … Continue reading

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St. Peters

The scents of August Mussel mud and bayberry Thicken the west wind While tall spruce harrow the sky Above heavy-headed wheat

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Perhaps I’ll be a walrus On a northern beach; Pedantic of thought, And ponderous of speech.

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Actaeon at Greenwich

Late July midnight The moon melts onto the dunes White artemisia

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