Mirror (7): Three Christmas Mornings.

7      [postcard]: portrait photograph of Walt Whitman (credited to Mathew Brady, 1860) Casey A thoughtfully sent this from Seattle. In the border frame she has written, brilliantly - v v Double ewe u u w Thoughtfully, because she is a good listener and, brilliantly, because marginalia is where she blends her work into … Continue reading Mirror (7): Three Christmas Mornings.

Side 2 of Beggar’s Banquet.

the very last words that she heard were, “hey, man! they’ve just landed!” it was late one night in ‘69 we laid her out on a big blue blanket. we carried her down to the beach through the town, there was a storm brewing on the atlantic. the needle dropped down and i heard the … Continue reading Side 2 of Beggar’s Banquet.

box of light.

Night rattles the tiles, the street glass roils, reflects traffics of cars, faces. Moon, too, yes. But, no star arcs in raindrops; shoeshine puddles even the paving.   Trainbent, late, and suddenly lost. Of the first to cross the mouth of the concourse, I ask direction, but with apology he passes without pause.   A near full … Continue reading box of light.