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Published Tanka |
we read old stories until, by candle flicker, she slips into dreams where teacups are bottomless and the moon can't be stolen Hermitage 2006 on a perfect autumn day the news: a friend has come home to die I call my mother - we speak of the weather and stuffed animals Hermitage 2006 |
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why do I do it, play love songs when I'm alone? inevitably I being to wonder how early's too early for gin Hermitage 2006 |
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winter's grip withdrawn, only its scattered remnants lodged in distant hills . . . leaf and pine needle beds melt as i walk to the zendo Hermitage 2005 the aging cat takes to her bed more often these days, and whatever her dreams may be, they're captured in the grasp of a sunbeam Hermitage, 2005 |