grave robin

cemetery fence—black iron
knocked to the ground
though the gate is still latched.
Dusk and a robin
perch on a gravestone
for the spectacular view

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A Hundred Falling Veils

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I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

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One Poet's Writing Practice: Poems by Mary Kendall

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A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment