These phases, pass in stages, moods /from moment to moment, /circle around, one right after the other./Incandescent roses in a dozen /bloom, then crumple;/ they’re luminous icons, but they drag on lazy wheels./ Flattened by bullets, or/maybe then , the end of a cigar ./A hot and sultry colonel/ rises from the ranks of monks,/ he lives above a liquor store/ shaped like a basilica. /Crying out loud,/a woman in a scarf/ does dishes for the government.
Midmorning In Seattle
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Poetry in Motion 