A Good October for Maples
I did not think: next October will be faded.
Category: Poetry
Hunters Strode the Woods Behind My House
I have my own way of standing half astride today
you must not think it’s a thing to get over
We Cannot Be Sure
The error in the formula keeps us thinking.
That Spring
I cannot say what anyone wore. Were skirts
about the knee?
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On this coast houses are clearly references.
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Sea Poem for Occupy
From the sand cliffs where the math
confronting us takes on the blue
of distance you can watch for days
