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Keats Walked Here

  Keats Walked Here The mountainside outshines the twilight force Above the highway and its cars.  Their glass And chrome presumably reflect the gorse, Dark green and yellow, from the mountain pass Back up, but weakly; colored echoes are Too feeble.  Bog plants made...

I Do not Think the Boy

     I Do not Think the Boy I do not think the boy will ever leave me, But if he does, I’ll sleepwalk through the rest Of time with Holy God’s dark rosary In hand and fumble beads to make the best Of  days  and  nights  and  years  and  decades  lost To...

Uncertainty Leading to Certainty

Uncertainty Leading to Certainty The London fog was lush, more lush than French Fogs anywhere, more plush than Paris fogs At least.  It bordered on the louche, its stench A prophecy of LA’s stringent smogs. Verlaine remarked that London’s murk was worse, That...

In Despondent Mood

In Despondent Mood “in despondent mood” ~ Verlaine, “Birds in the Night,” Romances Sans Paroles The Anglo-Saxons said that life was bleak As one bird flying in a stormy night Which enters through a window like a streak And out the other window of the bright Hall...