Friday, December 6, 2013


-poem 1017 (101)-


proof of poetry
and the facts are such
as they are remembered.

my childhood
friends lace-up their spikes
advanced from the laces
of their sneakers.

on the corner, the sweeping
fins of the automobiles seem designed
so as to be leaned upon.

In the park at twilight,
the dugouts alter their designated functions
and as evening darkens,
drape the incandescence, shielding us
from the eyes at the windows.

the neighborhood girls
are forbidden to do such things
as counseled by their mothers,
as dictated by their fathers.

but the poetry
will not hold them back,
will not throw anything away,
will be recorded — such as
whatever is remembered.



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