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Handful & Gristle I leave broken crumbs on the snow to find my way back from the House of Love with its flash of honey and taste of more. But it does no good because birds become love’s agents cleaning…

12

9-12-14 Each Fall summer lies down to sleep, forest floor a red and gold mattress. ~ Mary Weems Next…

11

There is ‘No Mist not one cloud nor shadows hardly a glare and it isnt too bright; if it keeps we could see meteors tonight. for now i chew and swallow, clean the dishes and tidy the bed. read a…

10

Moon sets on Lake Champlain Single call of a loon marking dawn’s blue slate cheerful coffee of woodsmoke sobriety keening consciousness flute signal calling eagle Kisosen to turn his head and take note, spread open sun’s champagne wings into kaleidoscopic…

9

Season of Stars & Vidrick’s Poem At the poles there are only two: summer, and night. In the tropics, hot, and wet. Artifacts of mid- latitudeness, the traditional four. Let me enter the season of your smile, soar in the…

8

September Song A toad down a well sees only some of the sky, cannot judge true hue. We have fire and we have coffee, what a buzz watching rising sun. Daily waking life stone stacking stone stacking stone seeking the…

7

Crabby Old Men Although I’ve tried hard not to become one of them, I’m failing. Last night, near dawn, a light came on. I felt irritated, bored, and offended, (definition of crabby!) I feel like I’m becoming King Crab. Don’t…

6

THE FIELD A PRICE IS PUT ON EVERYTHING AND CHEAPENS IT. THE FIELD, THE WOOD, THE ROCK. A COMMODITY BOUGHT AND SOLD AND USED FOR GAIN. THE COW, THE HORSE, THE MAN MADE MARKETABLE. A COMMODITY AVAILABLE THE FOREST, THE…

5

Imagine the museum Without walls –a hospital w/out art -half of medicine usa Shares space economically w/new art… dispensing auras—- -matisse brought his paintings To hospitalized friends To speed their recovery— -I chatted a man Who’s wife upstairs Despaired within…

4

poems talking I don’t write poems anymore Last year I wrote letters to a woman I like in Chicago But this year I’ve written one. I haven’t mailed it yet. ~ wendy shaffer Next…