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Posts by Ed

Poet Reading at the Phoenix Public Market

The poet leans into the microphone, begs to be heard over the bawling blues on the scratchy speakers from the Jamaican barbecue food truck, can’t turn the music down or sales might sag. A cinnamon-skinned woman calls out the orders as the food comes out.

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The Glade

Cool air whispers
up from the river

Cottonwood leaves lit from
below by lamplight,

shimmering silver against a
storm-wracked sea of stars

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We Are Too Young To Know

We are too young to know how to do this.
I’ve read a book I found in the city library.
We have acquired the vocabulary.
We sit on the edge of your bed, fasten one another’s eyes,
say the words for what we will do.

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For years I’ve toiled,
I’ve worked the earth.
Well, I’ve worked on the earth,
pushing a mower over
a puny patch of grass.

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Conspiring with my audience
in suspended disbelief, I twitch my legs
and jerk my head and blink away tears.

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Useless Moon

Seldom a day passes that I don’t see the moon.
Hanging by its point amid a field of faint stars
or glowing audaciously over a cluster of
cottonwoods on a sunwashed afternoon.

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