it was not the light of dawn neither cold nor grey but a fabulous orange hue nor the lady in Fred Meyer yesterday pouring a twenty five dollar cabernet into plastic cough medicine cups and saying of the beaujolais nouveau that she guessed its taste was near the gamays she drank when first she was trying to get herself to like wine
no today's poem was caused by a week in november I'll probably miss the goal but I'm taking a shot of best macallan and I sing first of a Romanian tune and then of re-branding following dogs and finally the high church titter of a mccall smith
how many poems have you read about life's unpredictability lots right and his wife's well the point here is that we live like dogs in a garden surrounded by possible routes but we wear instead a few tracks and looks for strangers which can be seriously funny
she says the Harlem Renaissance didn't only occur in Harlem so it's now called the New Harlem Renaissance teacher distributes sheets on it birth upon birth
she also says the Cold War has a bad name with Russians you think the war was fought somewhere freezing Finland maybe she's urges re-branding calling it she doesn't know what something that doesn't involve staring something people could know and recall
set a dog in an enclosed area and he will wear a track by repetition which reminds me of conversation what seems like exploration sniffing out clues, evaluation of messages, rooting balls from hiding spots wagging a tail at squirrels taking off in pursuit digging for moles grubbing generally is often not as free as it seems bounded bounding wears a path you know
as a speaker he was unvarying relentless talking at double time with the scant wild hair of a high church minister on speed if such can be imagined funny like your granny if your granny's a professor who worked for UNESCO funny like Henny Youngman bred to the female lead from "Brigadoon" at the end he read a poem one of his characters wrote which was about the importance of tea of small ceremonies like dinner of all the small traces which make up our lives of muddle which in a funny way we know intimately but fly over like dogs in haste
David Ritchie Portland, Oregon
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