music from a distant room

i heard the voice rise and fall,
passion and hesitation twinned in its timbre.

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what we call the beginning

morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
what we call the beginning is often the end.

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network

the young grass stands slight
and fragile against the cold.

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twin

he was the quiet one.
red hair, glasses, freckles;
more sarcastic, or shy,
than his funny brother —
more intense than easy-going.
or, at least, that’s how i
remember him.

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streetcar blues

the streetcar opened six years ago,
and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

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(untitled)

it always catches you off guard
that first full look into the face, into the eyes

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communion

one sunday morning i went to
a feast of wine and wafers
where the children of God knelt
in reverence and silently received
their meal from white-robed saints.

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the starlit night

lift up your eyes on high and see Who created these stars.
he whispered the promise’s opening like a prayer
as we gazed into the darkened skies.
he told me of the friend who, in patience,
spoke those words of wonder into the night
and how holy awe reopened his own eyes.

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10:28

it’s ten twenty-eight
and my tongue and my mind
don’t seem to be friends

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(untitled)

mother eve, why did you hunger
there in the garden of all that was good?

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