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curtis-lindsay
American From Alabama; primarily a composer and musician in the classical and jazz traditions, but also enjoys reading and writing verse. Favorite poets include Li Bo, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Stein, Millay, Williams, Cummings, Ronsard, Rilke, Goethe, Heine, C. D. de Andrade.
the beach is for losing yourself i ask you what manner of man or beast could ignore its siren song it dragged our silly smiles across the sand feet trailing giddily behind us we slipped wearied into the warm unceasing avalanche and a year was washed away in the thunderous salt rinse the beach is for best friends and for beer it is for games beneath the stars while a plankton metropolis fluoresced underfoot and a meteor grazed the spine of leo we slumbered through brooding rains that slunk away when we awoke to stare them down white shapes cast slender shadows on the reeds at noon sea breezes crooned tunes every child has always known in languages no man will ever understand the beach is for all of us last night we dreamt of ancestral slimes marching out of it today let us plunge in it is for even creeping snakes and gnawing fleas verily but most of all it is for your glistening face for two sleepy seagreen eyes accustoming themselves to the bright shores of morning while your coffee cooled on the camp stove it is for the sheen of your wild brown arms the surf of your laughter words with which you filled a quiet moment circling in my mind like gulls over the harbor yes most of all most of all it is for you speeding down the narrow cape i was beside you tapping in tandem with your electronic music realizing more with every pastel cottage flickering by that you had found me and i had never felt so safe
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 3:25 AM UTC
mare nostrum
To Fall Creek I would often climb alone And wade there, with my eyes skyward in thought-- Oh, now there's no more going on my own, Without you wandering with me as you ought. Well, I have ventured it, on summer days When the cascade roars down its little cliff. But deep within the noise some secret plays; The falls whisper your name amid their riff. The wide dome casts its blue upon green pools To recreate the color of your eyes, And when the doves call back and forth like fools I catch your laughter in the coos and sighs. Fall Creek, at least, has earned its silly name: We stepped in it--I fell for you, and trudged out not the same.
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May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
To Fall Creek I would often climb alone
I saw a meteor scream across the dark, a chemical green flash above the park. Breathless, I sought another--just one more?-- no, that was it--all quiet as before. Thus left alone, with nothing but the smack of waves necking with rocks behind my back, I sank into the cool, slow-breathing grass and shut my eyes to the star-strewn morass. *Oh, your name is a raft,    and my mind is a lake, and all the night I sailed that craft,    meteors trailing in my wake.*
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Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 5:24 PM UTC
Nocturne
Rain, ride down the river and pass me by. I'm gone out to deliver my rotgut rye. There's children at the rope swing this first of June. Up in the church, they're hoping he'll finish soon. Rain, keep right on goin', and should you see them solemn faces showin', kiss them for me.
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Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 8:16 AM UTC
Rain, ride down the river
See here, the dark oasis    beneath the blinding noon— the slenderest of spaces,    and it will vanish soon. Our shaded refuge lingers    where bright eyes cannot pry. Those searching, scorching fingers    still daily pass it by. A breeze hums through this walnut    we scaled with childish cheer. The sign we carved was small, but    it still would show the year. Time hisses as she passes,    and flicks her eager tongue, hunting through groves and grasses    we used to laugh among.
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Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
The walnut tree
I sigh in measured time,   bemuse myself with rhyme. Of pains I make a parlor play;   with words I while an hour away. Leave me to my cliches.   They comfort me these days. To shocking shards and blocks of rage,   I yield the balance of my page.
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Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:42 PM UTC
I yield the balance of my page
How selflessly and skillfully the sun who sang bright hours to rivers, glades, and towns takes his appointed leave as, one by one, the choristers of evening don their solemn silver gowns. How suddenly the trees to brown are turned. Fair summer heaves, demures, no longer cares. Once more, her promises are raked and burned-- the quick and cunning frost again has caught her unawares. How simply is the gathering of friends dissolved, as each must hurry home alone. With one last glass, a lingering laugh, it ends. The well-worn chairs are left to feign a friendship of their own.
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Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 7:03 PM UTC
A parting song
I wished for meadows gold and green,   for forests rich and sweet, as autumn's chill crept up between   the boards beneath my feet. It seemed to me within your eyes   there welled a wish like mine-- as if the gray November skies   could cry a draught of wine.
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Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 10:50 PM UTC
I wished for meadows gold and green
Mechanically, he turned and stepped away. Though there remained a symphony to say, the audience was obviously tired. The orchestra was weak and uninspired. And so he wandered up the street, and down, through all the dry vernacular of town. A thousand trivialities he passed until the sidewalk brought him home at last. He summited the dim and creaking stair. He sank into the thrift store easy chair, closed his eyes, and waited for her face. She smiled at him. Then darkness took her place.
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Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 8:33 AM UTC
goodbye in g minor
This winter has been harsh and cold; these winds have scoured the frosted fens for miles around. I only hope, once the seeds have sprouted, and long-kept zephyrs hum above the chapped and chastened earth, that you might walk the woodlands by my side— and make with me a new, glad spring. I could not bear another sighing sad spring.
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Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 9:47 PM UTC
late february