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At Blackmere

My trachea’s a well that draws up pailsOf cloudy rainwater, my bronchiolesRivulets in a fen, my lungs dark balesOf sodden straw. My eyes are bowls Of dirty sleet. My limbs are sedge and mossIn mist meandering like mercury.The fever fills and falls in me. I tossThe blankets off then drag them back . . . . Continue Reading »

Today the Weather

Today the weather brings to mindthe nature of the curved line,the many ways we measure time,the drawing of a deep breath,the shape of the sail just beforeanother holy exhale.And there, an aperture begins, the signaturereminder the body is at homeand beginnings and endings are the sameas a nonce . . . . Continue Reading »

Costa Maya

At Costa Maya, in the Yucatan,we walked the yellow jetty from the ship,with throngs of other visitors, to seea tacky shoppers’ mecca, with a mall,a plaza, palm trees, piles of souvenirs, sweet alcoholic drinks, and, for the ill,a pharmacy with drugs at cut-rate price.We wandered in the crowd, just . . . . Continue Reading »

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