Shipwreck
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The sky is a shipwreck today,
Ashen and lonely and quivering
Foam, its pale pallid eyes glazed
With staring stillness. I look into
Those petrified eyes
And I see
The sun, tucked somewhere behind the
Mist from the frothing sea, glinting
Like a grey pearl. Â
Sky, you are dressed in memories today,
Your wooden beams creak out wailings
And moss-encrusted echoes that look
Strangely like white birds,
Later you will drape yourself in
Histories and Could-Have-Beens
And Fantasies and Nows. Later you will
Wreck, once more,
On the distant shores
You painted yesterday. Â
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Poppies
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I loved the poppies too much
To fall asleep around them.
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My purple feet tingled and
Sighed in the wet leaves,
I was like a fairy strolling in
A yellow peacoat under a garden
Of miniature umbrellas,
Silky scarlet domes
With beads of silver water.
They tasted like cherry dust
And looked like a child’s bright open eyes,
They swayed in place singing
Ancient songs I was born knowing.
How could I ever sleep through this,
This dew-glass universe, this scarlet
Tea party waltz keeping time with its
Own raspberry heart? How can I sleep,
When the stars burn this close to me?
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Oh, I love the poppies too much
To be anything but alive around them.
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A Walk to Town
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The leaves whisper spidery somethings,
Soft and sad and serious,
And the town
Is a mile away.
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The leaves quiver in the wind
Like sheets of hammered gold;
All along the path into the
Village they drip and ring, leaving
Ripples in the air. The leaves
Whisper, but I cannot tell if the sound
Is the plod of my footsteps
Or the echoes of my mind.
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The leaves whisper spidery somethings,
Soft and sad and serious,
And the town
Is a mile away.
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