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Poetry

Selected poems to sit with, to carry, to return to

The first fumble in the back seat of a Chevy
doesn’t seem so far from this.
You played those records alone in a tiny room


shared with a younger brother
songs you wanted to lift from the air and stuff
in your heart and say they are mine


music you shared with another or thought
it was the same with him
lyrics you know were written for you
lyrics you wish you had written.
The longing, it is the longing that hurts—

What clock ticks in which firmament?
Which star describes the end
of a life or the birth of new one

from our puny point of view? Do you remember
your first orange? Will you love
your last breath?

Our Llasa Apso plays sentry for the inner palace,
as his ancestors did, outside
our bedroom door.

These poems appear in various collections. For more poetry, explore the books section or reach out to discuss readings and speaking engagements.

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