Tag: poetry

Sometimes my rake strikes sparkswhen I scratch the rocks or gravel—Lovers wave to soldiers on the trainin black & white movies I have seen—They cry into their handkerchiefs— The swish of my rake against the dirtmakes mountains of your
Once, while lying on a beach up north in California, I saw a whale’s spout, an explosion of released water, a trumpet’s blurt blasting from underneath the thick blue carpet of Pacific Ocean, a quick glimpse—a firefly’s blink-flash, the
Should they call me sentimental for riding by your old place to see the steps where you waited for me on long ago dates when I’d borrowed my dad’s Plymouth as he always had allowed? Should they call me

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