Month: March 2013

come and see…and I saw…

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walk home

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Long-stemmed roses
 on a black crate,
markers on the crosswalk.
Roses on a crate, black
 to signal
 another soul
 consigned.
And to where
 and to whom?
No one
 strains their neck
 to ask.
It's just the Blvd.
 and the
 way
 it
 takes.

drifter’s parade

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Follow the whispers
 like a trail
of discarded scratch-off tickets
 pock-marking the sidewalk.
The call and response
 of what's left.
Between
 moaning shadows
 and
 the gutters,
 whose silence itself
 is a heartbeat,
the gutters,
who bear the imprints
 of faces that fell.
Smokestacks run along
 the zones we played in.
It's a gift.