Category: for someone else
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for Nick Vulpi
Today, we drove to mile marker 99; nothing special to see; Nothing says that last week a visitor from Canada Stopped to offer help to a young man we knew as boy What did he say and what was the reply? Simple words of kindness shared, lost in the gore Of another drunk behind the…
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The introvert
in the middle of green stands a trellis alone no vines, no roses, no flowers freshly painted, pristine immaculate a sentinel unable to leave its posting autumn will soon turn green brown silently, it implores spring to curve life around its frame 9-12-20
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Ricky
Ricky moved into a new house built on an old grass landing strip of Shambaugh Airport Three years older than everyone in 4th grade he’d chase me home from school One day, I ran into our house home early, Dad made me go back out and fight Ricky put me in a headlock I bit…
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Drapes
today I don’t know why but today I thought of you and wondered why today one day the house was empty the next day it was not drapes in every window we must have been fifteen you moved into a house on Osage I was your paperboy the Journal & Courier sent a note to…
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a poem for G.K. Chesterton
Relaxing in the dark the moon appears luminous in the trees above my yard. I wonder who started the rumor about the moon being made of green cheese, when clearly it is Havarti curd. I savor a bite of extra sharp New York style cheddar cheese and say, the next slice is for you, Mr.…
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Benched
F– you! Yeah, f– you! Ya wanna play basketball, instead of be with me? F– you! Explosion in the middle of the street. Bringing it to the court. Don’t know who’s right or if there’s a wrong. Basketball; dribble, dribble; dribble, dribble. F– you! Yeah, f– you! Ya wanna play basketball, instead of be with…
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old photo
Tonight, I saw a picture of the last time we sat and talked We did not know it was our last time and that soon I’d race through the night across six states to listen to last breaths If we knew it was our last time would you have consented to a hug _____ We…
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For Riva’s Franma
I’ve inhaled the last third of my half of low country blueberry pie Licked my fingers the four pronged fork and fed squirrels the crust With sugared lips and purple poop I return sated to ketosis 8-6-20
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poem for a friend
On a log pile by a fire pit On a log with lichen clings a lone cicada husk Split in the back for you to flee A life that’s grown too small you flee into green canopy And sing incessantly to be found To be loved before a change of seasons 7-20-20