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Newly Bitterly Old
Being uncomfortable, I mention that somewhere outside, in the snow that hasn’t stopped since yesterday, there’s a homeless man
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Some of the Old Gods
I’m still worried I’m not cut out for this. I’m stuck in what I know. Roland was drowned and I can’t let it go. Dan was hit by an 18-wheeler. Ty too. Tabatha overdosed. Paul was shot. There were suicides. So many.
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Confessions
I was not an infant in a wicker basket. I was not a victim of the 80’s. I paid no attention then. I was teenage nihilist raging
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Dee Round Silence
~Neidecker The house moving slowly This morning. Photos on the walls wait – Suddenly dissatisfied.
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If you asked me about Mark Laba
perspective is a drug, and one should change suppliers as often as possible
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Wallace Stegner and Edward Abbey Have a Knife Fight at Dawn
They arrive The crisp church bell rings through jaundiced fog in rhythm with a hoot owl and the myth of Shane Brief applause
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Reading The Headlines From the Deck I Built in the Back Yard
Wind today. Suburbs are still. And isn’t that the point? Is the taking for granted the granted things foolish? I’ve been taking that idea for granted all my life.
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San Manuel, Az
Uncoiled in the dry wash-bed a diamondback takes his rest absorbs and expels heat – December sand – Nothing retains heat like the snake
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A Memory of My Father Painted on My Eyelids
What am I here for, reader? Am I too dim for the pressing issues of our time?
About Me
A poet-chef living in Denver, Co. I use the orange Aquafresh toothpaste, off brand mouthwash, and those little floss picks.