tuckova
ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things
about
Category: POETRY
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She thinks about how beautiful it isin photographs or movies, so still. How everything separates for a moment- the bullet from the gun,the wheel from the cog,the threads untangled,connections all finally revealed.If it is a diagram it can be labeled. Meanwhile in life what is stilleven in an instant collapses.In the absence of tension the gravity of things…
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thus we came to the end of the road that we walked so long – awestruck, gazing back at the wondrousview and thinking of everythingeven where we have arrived and what we haveleft Photos from Costa Rica are here.
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On a floor in Japan I drew a circle around myself because it was the only way to sleep. I don't know what waited for me but I know I would not have survived the night without its protection. Listen, I told him.It's not like this gets easy.It just gets less difficult. This was just another circle, another symbol wrapped around…
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Watches you while you work; saysall the things you need to hear:you're good, the best.Saw what you did there and laughed with you. How it feels to be seenbeing entirely yourself. Sees you walk in with shit on your shoes,wiping them on someone's white carpet; says:Nobody has walked a milein these shoes but you. Andforgives…
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Because I remember what it was to wake with your arm over me your breath in my hair and know that we had fallen asleep whispering secrets into each others' eyes Because I remember what it meant to climb the narrow stairs fingers linked for balance and not need to look at you to know…
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Crack of dawn is when we get up and the clouds are still pink, which means sailors take warning; my grandparents had a thermometer in the hall that was supposed to predict all kinds of sailor's moods ("Its colors turn to pink you'll see for rain and high humidity"), and sailors aside I am standing…
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MWomen at Forty by Donald Justice M Women at fortyLearn to close slam softly loudlyThe doors to rooms they will not be Coming back to. At rest on Tearing past a stair landing,They feel it movingBeneath them now like the deck of a ship, Though the swell is gentle A perfect storm is brewing. And deep…
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Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea, London has swept about you this score years And bright ships left you this or that in fee: Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things, Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price. Great minds have sought you- lacking someone else. You have been second always.…
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"As you can see, the fin de siècle…"Eventually I slip away from the tour groupand wander out into the castle courtyard.The grounds have not been tended for years – Ninety minus forty-five years, exactly. I take out a cigarette, because I am learningto be European. A plume of smoke says,"I have never been so lonely,"but…
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pillows of arms, breasts, legsto comfort feathers of wings, warmthto escape white of soundto silence screams hidden in a white feather pillowto be muffled.