Poet's Journal

Journal Entries

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Birth Wail

He visits the well in early morning, before the day opens for business. With a battered tin cup he dips out words and fragments to

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Tumbled Smooth

He lingers on the Moon and the pale light of Arcturus as the valley heat passes over. After years of avid collecting, he fixes his

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Faith of Leaves

Green leaves of the cherry tree sparkle in morning light while ocean’s breath cools the valley. Suffering these last weeks, reverence was hard to come

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Poems