Dusk Took Me In...
As I let go of Adrienne's hand
On that foreign veranda -
As foreign as she claimed
I was to her, and as foreign
As that once native ground
Had become. So a foreign
Dusk took me in, by the hand.
And in that hand left a hunk Of dark bread. I gnaw and Gnaw on it, with a hunger (which doesn't seem to abate) For that evening I last tasted Stardust from Adrienne's mouth - Before dusk took me in, Before darkness fell.
My Poems
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Morning Music...
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Trompe-l'oeils
The schooner of separation, with its cargo
of words is nearly at vanishing point. Waves break
over driftwood beached here at my moonlit feet.
No stars, not even the hiss of nebulae falling
away from our planet - with its distant cities,
you in one, I in another - in the whitewashed sky.
All those June days of green heat & evenings we spent
watching thunderstorms to the Great American Songbook-
Were those deeps we reached, Adrienne, trompe-l'oeils rather than moments of a lived summer, I wonder?
My Poems
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