Posts Tagged "poem"

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

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Filling Station

Oh, but it is dirty!
-this little filling station,
oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all
black translucency.
Be careful with that match!

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Father on Glass Wings

Death calls from Colorado spring. The phone
tells me you jumped: angel with dizzy stone
arms, floating on glass wings. But you don’t land.
Childhood. We’re selling watch straps, store to store,
sharing a shabby Greystone room.

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