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Tag Archives: poetry


What was it, That I woke up? That wasn’t enough. A loose pin required refitting On my desk lamp, flown and Buried under unfinished work. A mechanical issue, an aggravated phone call and a Mix-up between friends, looking for each other. Somewhere near the middle part of the day I knew That there could be no abstinence from action and That all moments demanded […]

Jean Erdman

By the piano, a student leans in. This isn’t music, it’s something else, nebulous, blue and circling. Waves. The hymn of creation. The hum of mossy, tumbled stones. Every wet field, every ocean seeking cliff, Every eyelid opening to meet matter halfway. All of the growing. Stalks finding room and Goodwill bound sneakers. All of […]


I’ve come home for a few days to cure myself of the city. My mother asks me: What are they doing across the street? How would I know what is happening in an abandoned house across the street? I take the dog out on a familiar path and move through old childhood stories. All of […]


When my grandfather died he left the uneaten half of a croissant on his table. There are unfinished oil paintings in the garage. Long stretches of magazines from a Time when they were saved. And in our house he walked with folded arms. From room to room The eternal foreigner. Coming to the piano, crouching over […]


Verily, through the patched hills, listening deeply For the whole chord that sounds the landscape and ourselves. It is not by chance that our bodies are prepared for nature. We are constantly meeting, leaping forward into what is already known. The open field, the immortal cliff, a guest in the lodge. We know it is […]