Category: Poetry

Color Tour

The buses full of tourists jammed the lot. They’d come to see the trees and be beguiled. A woman pulled

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Amos

“Do two walk together, unless they have agreed to do so?” His name was Amos and his blackness stoodagainst the

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Spring Storm

The rain, like settled sadness,Beat on the pool for hoursAnd littered it with branchesAnd fragments of dead flowers The pounding

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Discourses

The day that my grandfather diedI sat on the loose-shingled roofAtop the beaten shed that stoodBehind his gray and gabled

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