Monday, November 25, 2013



All of those places
traveling within you

release one at a time
a magician’s dove

you encourage into the air
So this town square

becomes another place
because of how you see it

The brick streets
rebricking themselves according

to your memory and desire
The eggshell sky

Whatever feeling fills you now
it rushes over

the rocks of your years ago bliss
or longing

You have built up a shore
called your heart

You can cast your wide waters
when you need to see

a familiar place You get used
to the clack of plastic

block on plastic block You
can make them fit

almost and hold it all together
for entire seconds


  1. I have missed reading your glad to know that you are still here, still beautiful, still writing, still so true. xoxoxoox

    1. Thank you for reading, Chrissy!! We are all still here :). Hope you are so well. xo

  2. Such a lovely line this: 'You have built up a shore / called your heart'.

  3. The brick streets
    rebricking themselves according

    to your memory and desire . . .

    I like the way that prepares for the clacking blocks at the end. And really the whole things's about ways we build, in both rational, material chunks and in magicians' doves, casting our minds--our wills, I suppose--over what we "half-create, half-perceive." (Is that Wordsworth? Coleridge?)

    When your line breaks got a little more dramatic, surprising, unconventional toward the end, I realized I'd been subconsciously noticing your line structures and lack of punctuation throughout. I think it all fits together nicely, like water washing over a shore (without semicolons or even commas), or like a skillful (willful) kid with (maybe) Legos.


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