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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Friday, July 11, 2014


Every time I think—
There—I've emptied
Myself for now
Said all the prayers
I know for you
Wept out every tear

Another indignity
Scurries forth
To further incense
Me, thwart
Any pretense
At ambivalence
Or dazed sanity

No matter - I welcome
Back the holy
Tenderness that flies
like a wounded cygnet:
Wings unable to flap
Lungs unready to breathe
It plummets, gives into
Fear and sinks beneath
the water ...

Maybe if I think of you
in abstracts
the pain will grow
more bearable
I don't believe it,
Not really
but I need
to try
to do something
even just
a little

Published by Kind of a Hurricane Press
in Poised in Flight/ 2013

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