Seasons in Upper Turkeyfoot
Rural in Nature, Transcendental in Temperament
Friday, November 07, 2014
Listen to Me
You must listen to me.
For a long time
my asylum was myself.
Give up your search
your muse will appear.
Feel like a young Neruda
the erotic lash of the poetic line.
— with a phrase by Fanny Howe
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Again
The Continuous Life
Quieted: A Cubist Past Tense
Retrospective in Wet Snow
Hope
Grounded
Zazen on King's Mountain
Bike Ride with Painted Stallion
Landscape
Aboriginals
A Novel in Nine Lines
Not Staying This Time, But Sure to Return
Shifting in Fog
How Do We Go On
That Astonishing Thing Ringing in the Enamored Air
Optics
A Finer Mesh
While It Lasts
No Separation
Red Clover
Binocular
Recitation
Listen to Me
November Impressionist
Indago Felix
Necromancy
The Era of Common Sense is Over
The Winnowing
Words for Standard Time
After 12 Atlantic Sunrises
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About J. O'Brien
J. O'Brien
View my complete profile