POEMS


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Horoscope

The full moon rolls in the southern sky;
it is time to practice your craft.

You will wander through ruins, your hair
unkempt, your face a long sea voyage.

Cut down to the ground the bleeding
heart; let roses go to hips.

October will kindle the vines.
Colchicum will open its lavender mouth.

   

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  • Disclaimer

    Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.

    In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.

    It is likely to be -- it is best if it is -- a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.

    A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think -- but it is not necessarily biographical.


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IBPC: Poetry and Poets in Rags


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