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Paradiso, Canto I

| Nov 30, 2021

Because nearing what one wants, / Our intellect is so overcome / That our memory is left behind.

After Reading Song of Songs I Take Out the Garbage

| Nov 30, 2021

I’m carrying into the cold / a bulging trash bag, big enough to hold / and hold and stretch and hold, like love itself, /
and outfitted with handy drawstrings.

Picturing Silence: Stillness in Sound of Metal

| Dec 1, 2021

Stillness is hard. This is going to take practice.

The Abstractionist

| Dec 1, 2021

Diego always called me mija, daughter, instead of Lisa. Once he called me by his ex-wife’s name, and ever since, he always called me mija. I thought he might have forgotten my name altogether, but he had his pride, and I took care not to embarrass him.

New Year’s Letter to Li Bai

| Dec 6, 2021

Star-eater, you said / nothing when I asked; / you couldn’t hear me / with my mouth pressed

Eternal City, Soldiers Goosestep through Your Ivory Gates

| Dec 6, 2021

How many forms can the wind take? / A paper bag, a dying voice, a limping stray.

Dooryard, Shaker Dwelling House

| Dec 6, 2021

Here flints / / sleep next to tinder, matches near the stove.

Like Jesus in a Dead Man’s Float

| Dec 6, 2021

He plunged into more and different living beings beneath the river’s surface, also uncaring. Almost-blind fishes swimming between reeds, above rusted cans and keys and teeth and bones.

House with Many Rooms

| Dec 6, 2021

One recalls the depths of shadow, / The uncertain elsewhere of each room, / Dust like stellar remnants drawn together.

Self-Portrait with a Stranger’s Baby

| Dec 6, 2021

Who would just leave a baby Jesus out / In their front lawn for anyone to take?

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