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AFLOAT
I have taken tofolding my poemsinto little paper boatsand dropping gentlyinto the riverwhere they saildownstream. Many may drownbut some mayreach the lakeor be plucked outand reador discarded. The river is,in the end,my harshestcritic.
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WANTING
I wanted to write like Heaneybut of course he got there firstand could do it in two languages,so that was out of the question. I tried to write like otherof the greats only to find thatwhat set them apart from so manyset them rather far apart from me. So I an left to write as…
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PAPER CUTS
Paper is at once boththe cruelest invention a writermay have stumbled acrossand also her salvation. The blank page invites,often demands the penand is unjudging, yet the poetmay change or deletebut the paper retains the originaland throws it back in his face. The computer, many say,changed all of that, backspaceor highlight and delete andthat mistake, misuse,…
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INSTRUCTIONS TO MY ENGLISH LIT CLASS
First, read the syllabusand buy the books we will read.Note that I have carefully selectedworks for which there are no Cliff Notesor their equivalent, so if you werecounting on that consider yourself screwed. When you write an essay, do not ever,let me emphasize EVER, begin by sayingin my opinion, for if I wantedan opinion on…
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AMERICAN IDOL
He was well on his wayto achieving his dreamof being a musical idol. He had long since masteredthe air guitar, could shredwith the best, Hendrix,Clapton, and he had conqueredthe piano fingerings of mostof the Billy Joel Songbook,his paper keyboard worn flat. Clarence Clemons was provinga serious challenge, the air saxwas by reputation the mostdifficult of…
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BANZAN’S A BETTER CUT
At the butcherbe careful what you askfor if it is a better cutthe wise man with the knifemay slice off your handand present it to youwrapped neatly in paper. But will it beyour rightor your left? A reflection onCase 21 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo (The True Dharma Eye)
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OLD SCHOOL
How much better off would we beif every poet and wanna be werecompelled to write using only paperand a quill pen dipped regularlyinto a small glass inkwell? You must wonder if we would seemore elegance, villanelles, sonnets,and the other forms now lying jumbledin the great literary waste bin. What would we discover if leftto our…
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FOR NOW
Tomorrow this poem willmost assuredly no longer be here,though when during the nightit will slip away, never againto be seen, I don’t know or perhaps itwill return in a form I would not recognize,recrafted by the hand of an unseen editor. It may take on a meaning unfamiliar,or translate itself into a tonguethat I can…

