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She moves slowly in her parlor
in the fading light of day.
In her time she was a beauty,
celebrated on the stage.
From ingénue to has-been
was a short eventful trip.
A cup from which a never-was
Perhaps would like to sip.
Even in her eighties
Her pose is ramrod straight
As when she was a lovely teen
pursued by the rich and great.
She loved the man her husband killed,
She never loved her mate.
When Harry Thaw killed Stanford White
Karma chose the place and date.
Evelyn Nesbit, Harry Thaw, Stanford White and the crime of the century 06/25/1906 a ****** on the roof of Madison Square Garden
i can hear the old body of a cat creaking between my ears the rushing of the wind outside is enormously pale breasted i cup myself into a fist of warm andream of almost you nearly more than farther are i put my leg over a pillow the tension in my hips release remembering a pillow used to be your hips my hips tension



Releasing
 Apr 2013 Marty S Dalton
CharlesC
Crepuscular rays
science name for beauty
filtered Light...


Two weak sprinklers
coaxing green from dry blades
desert futility...?  


Steady wind blows
roars in tree branches
motor noise amplifies...


Blue paint droppings
pavement lines and splotches
patterns imagined...


Breathless biker
yield passage on steep path
shared success...?


Uprooted tree
branches to sky reach out
same questions...?


Bright setting light
yucca spears dead and alive
both reflect...


Dead logs
piled and waiting
tree dust...
Some love to watch the sea bushes appearing at dawn,
To see night fall from the goose wings, and to hear
The conversations the night sea has with the dawn.

If we can't find Heaven, there are always bluejays.
Now you know why I spent my twenties crying.
Cries are required from those who wake disturbed at dawn.

Adam was called in to name the Red-Winged
Blackbirds, the Diamond Rattlers, and the Ring-Tailed
Raccoons washing God in the streams at dawn.

Centuries later, the Mesopotamian gods,
All curls and ears, showed up; behind them the Generals
With their blue-coated sons who will die at dawn.

Those grasshopper-eating hermits were so good
To stay all day in the cave; but it is also sweet
To see the fenceposts gradually appear at dawn.

People in love with the setting stars are right
To adore the baby who smells of the stable, but we know
That even the setting stars will disappear at dawn.
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