A man rows a boat through a blue thigh.
A bird flies across the golden sky of a lover’s hair.
A dog barks at the absent yellow which he is.
White circumscribed circles float in celestial ultramarine:
Deep sea glimmered by dots which are the stars
Of her eyes. A tree takes root in the brown
Furrows of her hair;  the spotted cow stares.
A fish swims by.

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Passing in the park
I look down
But breathe her deeply.

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O Lord, let your will pass through my soul
As wind through a grove of straightly-planted olive trees
Full in their season; and the grape vines beyond them
In their time; and the barley, oats, and corn.

Let my wisdom grow fat like the cows which bellow
Into the deep valley where they daily graze
Which slants down to the river
From which we all drink.

Make my spirit fresh and young
As lambs when the lavender and juniper berries
Perfume the fields; let their peace be
My peace as their peace is thine.

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Because my friends no longer want to hear,
And my mother does not believe me,
And my father cannot comprehend
That I am to the hilt in love

I’ve been conversing with the birds
& the wind, and the wind & the trees
And the trees & the sky and the sky
& the earth and now by God I know

That they understand — but alas!
They don’t know, and so here I lay
On this desolate island of love
All alone, not even You beside me!

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Write a Poem

Get a pencil and a piece of paper.
Sit down.

With words and images
The thoughts in your mind
And feelings in your heart.
Tell us how it is

To live in the world:
Where you’ve been,
What you’ve seen,
Who you’ve met.

But remember!
Are more than words

Punctuation has meaning;
Grammar is useful.
Nothing is less important

Than anything
And that
If it’s here
It MUST be necessary.

And don’t forget
To make us laugh
Once and a

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Everything you know is dead;
Everyone you love is gone.
You will wake up on the bed

Everyone you know is tired; the dead
Make their own bed.
You will walk the days alone
Until the sun is gone.

Everything you know is gone;
Everyone you love is dead.
The sun makes its bed
As you lie alone.

Lie then alone and dead upon the bed
Until the sun has tired and gone.

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After Issa

O you poet,
Walking about observing,
And eating
And drinking;

O you poet,
Sometimes pretending
People see you;

You Poet,
Rapscallion, Rascal —
Go catch a fish!
With your poem’s net.

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I was an Olympian

A ton
One second;
The next
I had
No arms.

The pain!
My body
To lift
That weight.

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In a town nearby where my parents grew up
There was a racetrack my dad would take my not-yet mother to;

He had a nice car, the kind you keep a picture of
Once you sell it after having your first child.

I’d go by the exit sometimes on the Interstate
After I’d left home for school and graduated

But have never stopped in a hundred times passing.
I’ve never heard the cars roaring around the track,

Never smelt the hot air ripe with rubber and hot dogs
With love’s butterflies fluttering inside me.

Just saw the old sign’s big red arrow growing grayer and grayer
Along the side of the road as I’d drive by.

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