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bobby-copeland
bobby-copeland
65/M/Kentucky Studied poetry with Barry Spacks and Haydn Carruth, fiction with Raymond Carver. Works at Terrapin Station record store in far western Kentucky. Recently published in Askew and Pegasus. Lives in Kentucky with partner of 48 years, Valerie.
The new firehouse  stands where the old Hardshell church used to be stationed, and across the road new houses have replaced the once fallow field where the Methodist tent meeting took place when I was twelve years old, accountable for my wanton gaze, at the cheeks exposed by shorts that would not have been allowed on Sunday morning this Friday night, if you took the freewill doctrine unpopular now in circles philosophical,  canted like the hooks we used to turn sawlogs on the carriage where I offbeared in the summer and after school, saving cash I would one day use to court those long-legged ladies.
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Jul 25, 2024
Jul 25, 2024 at 11:43 AM UTC
Tent Meeting
Was this a predetermined thought, Constructed in an unfree mind-- A trot line strung where fish are caught Without a well cast lure to find. Loose words sift through a poet's hand-- They scar the skin like god's own hooks, As if there were a master plan That could inspire a patchwork book Begun with what was deadly banned, Unknown within the naked world Until the slanted word's command Suggested sacrifice endured. Some better line deserves this place, Wedged tight in this most thoughtless space
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May 14, 2024
May 14, 2024 at 3:12 PM UTC
Word
It didn't matter what we did, Together while the light lay down-- Eat something, watch TV, get high On every breath we shared before The darkness called, like memory, Like a thing almost remembered, So sure we were that time would leave-- Unwanted guest, unlikely song
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Feb 6, 2024
Feb 6, 2024 at 10:15 AM UTC
What We Did
The brown leaves holding fast To the grey branches Of the post oak tree, Above the unblemished snow, Are more beautiful Than apocryphal angels
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Jan 17, 2024
Jan 17, 2024 at 12:20 PM UTC
Brown Leaves
Empty eyes where you Once reflected all the world As it existed
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Dec 31, 2023
Dec 31, 2023 at 2:26 PM UTC
Empty Eyes
A broken heart doesn't stop. It's like she told me; Some things are worse than death. Yes
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Oct 16, 2023
Oct 16, 2023 at 12:23 PM UTC
Heartbreak
should it all be quantified, this spirit-laden world, broken to its smallest piece without a secret left except the love that contradicts all circumstance, defying language, stone carvings and disease, unguided shots at shadows, my own transgressions sacramental and profane, with which the fruit of paradise is tasted on a dying tongue
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May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 10:19 AM UTC
exception
not long this measured universe shall entertain my thoughts, if they be fancied mine you understand the the infinite uncertainty loosely scattered in bright flashes, dark skies, increasing silence laced between the thunder
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May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 5:29 PM UTC
thunder
touch our shared confusion, once more portrayed as good intent, black ink in darkness so profound as gravity tilts what otherwise might stand as roses on a twisted stake, unclear the aspiration of an intermittent beauty falling loosely on an unmade bed
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May 26, 2023
May 26, 2023 at 9:50 AM UTC
black ink
old boneyards made the perfect sites-- the residents content to wait, through late-night fornication rites-- for judgment at a future date sly little sisters took their turn, when breakups offered openings to quench the adolescent burn by covering a load of sins with stories that got passed around, a currency as firm as gold, assuring they were never found without a little death foretold next day the brimstone sermons ruled, in nodding pews post Sunday school
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May 23, 2023
May 23, 2023 at 1:57 PM UTC
date night