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    In an ancient park, isolated and icy,
  • The Book of Before All This

    They're retrieving what's retrievable.
  • Wraith

    I never walk past that gate I don’t recall a rifle butt, two sharp yelps,
  • To a Man in Rags Holding Out a Cup | A 100-year-old Man Asks Me to Write about Something

    I don’t have much
  • No use

    On October 21, 1962, Sylvia Plath wrote one poem that became two.
  • Trespass and Dante Confidential

    That is not your poem to write, she says.
  • Annie Fitch’s Duck Sauce

    I must be prepared to sit
  • from Devil Mutant Child

    Exactly the hair I wanted,

    There are firm ones.  Soft, almost boneless ones.  Hardy/hearty ones.  Two-handed ones, cocooning.  Congratulatory
  • The Muse Writes Luis Jorge Borges A Letter On His 86th Birthday

    The night has entered your eyes
  • And This is How It Happens

    Because I have been happily
  • Dentist, Mexico, 1959

    The room was big, not small.