Category Archives: Poetry

Two Hills

Two Hills For my cousin Pete Patterson June 2017 There was a standpipe On the highest rise, Above my Grandma’s house. And to the west, a cemetery Always neatly shorn Forbidding to a child born from its ceremony. It was … Continue reading

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Participation Mystique: Number One

Not risotto, you fool. Radicchio. Participation mystique: “a kind of psychological connection with objects in which the subject cannot clearly distinguish himself from the object.” To this I dedicate my work in the coming year. Number One Off to the … Continue reading

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Report from a Kayak 2009

Tonight the wind came up. I watched the birth of white caps. A solitary cormorant, head like a worked point, flew low across the bay. Later, the dog and I played fetch the decoy. The cat watched from a bleached … Continue reading

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My Trip to Mongolia

Gordon Blue and Bobby Burns…..met up once in Ulan Bataar Said old Bobby to Gordon I’m a dying of boredom Let’s go in to that nice Irish bar I rode in at dawn On a camel named Khan And my thirst’s … Continue reading

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Easy to Empty My Mind Here: A Few Poems from Mongolia

Easy to Empty My Mind Here: A Few Poems from Mongolia August 17, 2011 at 7:51pm #1 Flap of felt in wind Outside, camels close their eyes Sleep is hard to come. #2 Morning sun subtle Dawn breaks without announcement … Continue reading

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A Hare’s Breath

Memoir A hare’s breath or a hair’s breadth? I’ve come that close to the edge so many times. I choose the sweet hare’s breath then use her whiskers to measure how nearly I’ve come to missing my appointment with destiny. … Continue reading

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Bipedalism is Uncritically Accepted as a Given

Bipedalism is Uncritically Accepted as a Given Among Humans   “Walking assuages or legitimizes…alienation.” Wanderlust: A History of Walking, Rebecca Solnit         July 32 2014   I did not crawl. Some say that’s a shame And did something to the development … Continue reading

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In the Charnel House

In the Charnel House 12/11/2011 In the charnel house of my still breathing soul, There hangs, on rusted peg, a long descending scale of ancient thoughts. Nearby are meaty ribs, the outlines of the things I meant to do. I … Continue reading

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For Steven

  For Steven April 19, 2014 On this dark and weepy day A fury of pink petals storm against my cheeks And rain stains my eyes with what I know now to be tears. This flurried April day you would … Continue reading

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Thanksgiving Suite: November 2014

Thanksgiving Suite: 2014     Rain Check The knife trembled in the hand of a resigned father But God said kill a ram instead So he did But God kept a rain check And never forgot And ultimately the lamb … Continue reading

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