Posted on Apr 11th, 2009
by
Ron
In the yellow morning- My binoculars, high up In a tree-was I a sleep Climber? Out on the silvery Deck, beyond the forest Glass, a Downy pooed On my shoulder. A Tiny wet newspaper. I... More »
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Posted on May 15th, 2008
by
Ron
I know it's arbitrary when I face you, But just the idea that you are there And I am here sends the left into words And my right into color and smile. My mind is... More »
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Posted on Mar 16th, 2007
by
Ron
She said a psychic told her Be ready or you'll miss him. I have no such luck. But there is plenty of light And advice in the afternoon wind. A throat clears, that watching oak?... More »
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