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Sunday, October 10, 2010

Edward Hopper painting +three other images+three of my poems


Whatever went wrong went

Terribly wrong. The road just

Ended. No signs at all, no rails,

Just stopped as if there was something

Much more important to do than

Be a road any longer. It was only

About a third of a mile long and

Had begun to attempt a passage

Through a small wooded area.

It looked as if it hasn’t mattered

Much, that no one had come that way.

There was no garbage, no dumping. Just

A stopping, a way of saying that this

Could happen anywhere just as unexpectedly.


Brave little moment repeating

Itself, waiting for the mind

With its fine tigers to parade

Through, earnest in their spectacles

Of calm madness hovering

Along the same roads we travel,

Waiting for the mind, for us

To find the crowded streets

Sweating like skin tattooed

With a symbol that will lead

Us through these same stone

Streets always expecting,

Always arranging them one

After another, as if they could

Mean something more than

The borders of our madness,

Our rush to see them sorted out

Hoping this means we really exist.


So many voices. A chorus

Speaking together. There is

Grace in the way the words

Form here. We have no idea

What is being said. But there

It is, pure and outlandish

As late June with its

Dreams of water and Summer

Love caught in its loins.

We walk along the sidewalks

On the edges of the park.

The fireflies are just starting

To be seen so we sit and wait

For the dark to consume everything.

I am in love with you, you

The one reading this. I want to

Take you in my arms and touch

You intimately, make love with you

With great ceremony and unbridled lust,

To be a chorus within you, not

Singing at all, but speaking so we

May hear in our core, abandoning gender,

Fine and carnal, pleading another kind

Of Summer, another mouth upon yours

Where speech stops attending us

Where all becomes sensation,

Steam rising from the ocean surface

Even before dawn is aware of it.

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