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Tag: Poetry

The Bridge/Part II

The Bridge/Part II

There are degrees Of course There are always degrees So that one can connect And still not know you Like the friend who saw your face Before you were born Knew that face before it was here And after it leaves the scene After it moves on to that place None of us can return from Or talk about with the living So bridges can range in size and strength From the shaky to the permanent From the earthly To…

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The Bridge

The Bridge

The best writers do more than just Take you there They do more than just describe the scene The village city ocean sky They bury the dead where you buried yours They surround you with your own secrets They sing the song you learned in the womb And only in the womb The best writers know you Even though that’s impossible Even though that would mean The walls you thought existed — between humans plants animals space — Never existed…

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Floating in my Tin Can

Floating in my Tin Can

  Live for today? This may be among the most pressing Questions of the era Given the fires the seas the melting ice caps Why? Why is it so profoundly important? Because I said so That’s why And because I just said that You stopped reading Most likely Which leads to our next proposal: Dance sing play the drums Piano Guitar Bass Like it’s the End of the World Like no one is watching While being cleverly Decidedly Indirectly Didactic…

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A Box a Bundle a Triptych of Poems

A Box a Bundle a Triptych of Poems

Slouching Closer to First Sins   She sat on a universal A universal space and time Not of her making It was hers by right And everyone knew it Many decades later Some would call this Into question Timidly Decades after that Aggressively and with anger They would question the universal Itself They would question the idea That anyone can really see anything From anywhere Without all but nullifying What they see Because Motives Because Privilege Because The stain of…

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An Artistic Life Needs no Explanation

An Artistic Life Needs no Explanation

It’s so clear to me now Like the crunch of frozen snow And the cuts it makes When we don’t wear shoes It’s so obvious to me now Like the hurling infrastructure Of crestfallen waves that seem Desperate to put us in our place There can be no direct communication There can be no epiphany via words Only images And sounds And wounded flesh Get through to us And even they struggle To make a lasting dent In our move-along…

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The Sheer Unabashed Misery of Speculative Fiction

The Sheer Unabashed Misery of Speculative Fiction

It’s a common theme among Certain kinds of philosophers That life would have no meaning If it never ended Well, it’s not common, really; It’s rarely ever brought up, To be frank Or Celt for that matter I see things in a different way, And always have Due to my double helix Glasses, tilted raffishly to one side So I dissent And dissent again Which is to say I pour another whiskey Getting a drop or two inside The snifter…

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The Purpose of Life is Life

The Purpose of Life is Life

Everything is ex There is no why We don’t have a clue We don’t have a rationale Beyond bad or good or great Fictions This is how we survive This is where it takes place My store of knowledge Is on East Main Street So the Thought Police usually Leave me alone   There is strength in numbers Fewer than twenty More than that and we have Problems and they Investigate They always investigate Big numbers Big figures Big loops…

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New Poem by Doreen LeBlanc

New Poem by Doreen LeBlanc

Arriving Home When I cross the harbor bridge, I’m home. In awe of intersecting sky, river, ocean, mountains sloping down to fields, wild roses, Queen Anne’s lace. I inhale them with all my senses. Arriving at the cabin, I catch my breath. We ran through these hay fields as children. Here my grandparents worked the land, sea and woodlands without rest. Now it is our summer haven. Afternoon sunlight streams into the kitchen. I look for the great bald eagle…

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