Category: Poetry

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Oksana

A blue bike leans against the iron railing. It is bright summertime in Ukraine and the railroad lady tends a garden full  to blooming with cucumbers, beetroot, squash she bends over in a frock like livery. Her blue buttoned uniform blossoms from beneath the frock, the cuffs kissed with splashes of dirt kicked up from the motley flower pots. She hears a distant whine— she unties the bow and drapes it on the … Read More Oksana

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Stars & Stripes

Stars and stripes & a purple ponytailjiggling up and down on the windingroad fur-lined in Douglas Firs andpocket-bullys straining on chains. 

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Crustacea

Legs like barnacles swing wide over the heady stone wall to await the coming storm — such joy in a white stucco worldof butterflies and garden gnomesand fistfuls of choices for breakfast! 

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Locus

Each day is a new micro communitya locus of control as blurryas the great Egyptian plagues of old. Swimming upstream has never been easier yet they sit there on the white rockspretending to drown. 

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On Judging a Poetry Contest

One finger tapping against an illusive white ceramic cuppa something—you don’t know—I’m a mystery, I’m the poetry editor. Illustrious task, these scribbleslaid bare to me, laid out like coffee spilled silent on the plate. Not too late to duck down into hiding, find a proper bunker. Fortunately good poetry chooses me, not I and I know in my heart

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Ancients

Jealous, she callsfor stardust and raises one fist high.  She’s a miracle-years-old and younger than 

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Attempting to Make a Point

Poetry — what an objectively disagreed upon reality, filled to overflow  with such things like fringe combs  and metallic tea jugs. Best now to bring it to a boil, to set on  the balcony railing and let seep 

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Waiting

Legs like barnacles swing wide over the stone wall to wait the coming storm.  Such joy in a white stucco worldof butterflies and garden gnomesand fistfuls of choices for breakfast!

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Waikiki in June

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Edgar

There can’t possibly be anything in the world more complicated than a sourdough starter.  I feed Edgar every 24 hours, sometimes more if he moans and belches  a watery black liquid. “Hooch” this is called, and apparently I am to stir it back in  and just keep feeding. But Edgar doesn’t like the sun & doesn’t like the pantry  & doesn’t like cool water and it must be … Read More Edgar

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Kaimana

With fistfuls of ocean, I scrubthe soles of my feet— exhausting flakes for the fish food watching the waves lose pieces in a fist fight with the breeze. I got a whole lotta sand to figure things out. The sun will wait for me patiently kissing umbrella cloudstil my blue towel be set near that low wall. Not for the first time do I wonder how long this will last.  Harnessing light from … Read More Kaimana

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Wright’s Beach

If I am caught hold tight the strings against the seagull’s squalor and tight against the fading light. The children shriek a sandy progress and to my expedite delight the winds that harness heaven’s hurry take these piercing shrieks far from me. Far, far above the landscape the corners of me