tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75783312024-03-07T20:59:53.846-05:00I'll Show You MineNYC to West Texas -- It's all the same team!Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.comBlogger790125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-48596466063853049782021-04-11T21:12:00.004-04:002021-04-11T21:12:26.537-04:00<div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">What It Looks Like To Us and The Words We Use<br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>-- after Ada Limon</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">I know the words we use define us,<br />but it looks to me like magic</div><div style="text-align: left;">when you use your mouth to talk.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />To me, words are more than symbols,</div><div style="text-align: left;">they are what we are, we are sad,</div><div style="text-align: left;">we are tired, we are beautiful</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">when our tongues slip, when</div><div style="text-align: left;">we forgot what we were going</div><div style="text-align: left;">to say, or when we are struggling</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">for the way to say it. The words</div><div style="text-align: left;">I would say about you look like wind;</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am invisible until I've spoken of you. </div>Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-840827130964067492018-07-10T06:56:00.000-04:002021-08-21T16:05:48.104-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4KEwhiFn6yOMEoHYOceQReIMvXprebGjZUHylC9t27QzJAVDzp64P3TeU8rhOWzUmQxHV1mtFVlS4Uek4H37Cj0hSgvEqS0lscP1K-fuEwFFay5UOKh7GC0KOYQ4T5l78kRKE7A/s1600-h/photo-784103.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442149129952087314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4KEwhiFn6yOMEoHYOceQReIMvXprebGjZUHylC9t27QzJAVDzp64P3TeU8rhOWzUmQxHV1mtFVlS4Uek4H37Cj0hSgvEqS0lscP1K-fuEwFFay5UOKh7GC0KOYQ4T5l78kRKE7A/s320/photo-784103.jpg" /></a></p>HOURLY<p><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-80675215448511276052017-02-09T17:53:00.000-05:002017-02-09T17:54:03.727-05:00<div><br><br><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7LbR2bEh56OjLmollSsKEMnp6sH1RGsW-sDKGqZPynnNr_rYd3qQi7UzXPXI8ob2Hnpe4-B2WGIao7NTi52pOxWnpTlcwNTeKoJiyU7GBS4Vcdnz8rDaMUkcvGuQQxcIyUc-lg/s1600/FullSizeRender-743729.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7LbR2bEh56OjLmollSsKEMnp6sH1RGsW-sDKGqZPynnNr_rYd3qQi7UzXPXI8ob2Hnpe4-B2WGIao7NTi52pOxWnpTlcwNTeKoJiyU7GBS4Vcdnz8rDaMUkcvGuQQxcIyUc-lg/s320/FullSizeRender-743729.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6385245608152244658" /></a></div><div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">SPEED WASH</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">-- after Ron Padgett</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Down here in the laundry room </span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I lord over a tiny city</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">made of cleaning products.</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For these base-colored buildings,</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am a tidy act of god </span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">calling forth natural disasters </span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">named Speed Wash</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">or Delicates. I hope</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">you'll come home soon </span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">before an entire civilization,</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">a brief history, the epic song</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">of our two dirty lives</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">is cleaned to death. </span></div></div><div></div>Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-75284912089701298102017-02-02T22:30:00.000-05:002017-02-02T22:50:20.195-05:00<div class="mobile-photo">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcysJYd6Raa6TaovyJcb7wAnkqjNJ7z2MFNgJXRfk_o7qThyphenhyphenDMZgxX3L0I-dKVfP9c4pH2rib9nNDSUNwb2pZnFJvr79HtAdhM6QPt4stxmQAG88-ijfk7mxOPkk_7VRBVDI0NDA/s1600/IMG_2752-792668.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6382719517066489682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcysJYd6Raa6TaovyJcb7wAnkqjNJ7z2MFNgJXRfk_o7qThyphenhyphenDMZgxX3L0I-dKVfP9c4pH2rib9nNDSUNwb2pZnFJvr79HtAdhM6QPt4stxmQAG88-ijfk7mxOPkk_7VRBVDI0NDA/s320/IMG_2752-792668.JPG" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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What makes you cry?</div>
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A cold and lonely road at night,</div>
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or a dead possum, or</div>
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a vicious National Geographic</div>
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magazine paper cut?</div>
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Sometimes it seems like ice</div>
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on a highway will be the last word</div>
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in danger, but sometimes</div>
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it feels like a high school</div>
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heartbreak can wreck</div>
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harder than any car.</div>
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Long-fronded cactuses</div>
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sit in West Texas</div>
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like plants made of swords,</div>
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and hurtful words</div>
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hide even in churches,</div>
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but right now the worst</div>
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of the Great Plains</div>
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is what isn't there. </div>
Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-73286006301605065022013-12-11T20:19:00.001-05:002013-12-11T20:19:02.870-05:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenVFnjTd6QH8qydffg8R7kh5s4FK1nuDAD5hZOYHcguTc-k1X0Ka2mCrcb2hs2DjeHYlQYPnr9-J2GerYJSRgtYJ3T3wLmaljSA__vuxNhy-oMG9FV06mmjTSA6jTeSBGN2_9IA/s1600/IMG_5760-742870.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenVFnjTd6QH8qydffg8R7kh5s4FK1nuDAD5hZOYHcguTc-k1X0Ka2mCrcb2hs2DjeHYlQYPnr9-J2GerYJSRgtYJ3T3wLmaljSA__vuxNhy-oMG9FV06mmjTSA6jTeSBGN2_9IA/s320/IMG_5760-742870.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5956308512531745890" /></a></p><div dir="ltr"><p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">THE TEXAS PLEASER</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman';min-height:21.0px"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px"></span><br></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">The sunset is focused and red</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">as a post-pugilist's solar plexus:</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">a pain never jet-lagged or</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">caught without a thread</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">in conversation: the bus</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">is a timeline of its own</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">and when we're on the road</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">we won't speak for hours;</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">our needs are all bandaged up</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">and clicked shut in a tight</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">white box, lickety-slick with</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">a red X on the side, and</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">at night we know</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">if we pulled over we'd cry.</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">The next town is an "oh,</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">what did you say?" and</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">the town after that is</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">the ring, and the town</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">after that is the card girl,</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">and the town after that is</span></p> <p style="margin:0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;font:18.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px">a bucketful of spit. </span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing:0.0px"><br></span></div></div> Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-92064108946090230982013-12-10T20:53:00.001-05:002013-12-11T20:27:34.398-05:00<div class="mobile-photo">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzV4bjw6GXG52SJMTx0vhENT9oaW8Y7mw2YZZxDzxfkhfEX17NQc1s9G77F4N9HD5di08hyphenhyphen7r0LCyzz9z-zXPsfZLmIhy_Zd4r8BtvwQRgV_aOKADQZremenp1M57Mmw_k0zBbA/s1600/IMG_6766-789826.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5955946212423248274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpzV4bjw6GXG52SJMTx0vhENT9oaW8Y7mw2YZZxDzxfkhfEX17NQc1s9G77F4N9HD5di08hyphenhyphen7r0LCyzz9z-zXPsfZLmIhy_Zd4r8BtvwQRgV_aOKADQZremenp1M57Mmw_k0zBbA/s320/IMG_6766-789826.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">FAUST STREET BRIDGE</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When the cold has cheated </span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">its way down into Texas,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and the wet orange leaves </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">carpet Faust Street Bridge,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and we've all forgotten </span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">to wear our windbreakers:</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The Guadalupe is spilling</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">over the shallow dam.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My sister speaks of life's</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">little things that add up</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">to the big things: the coffee</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">is the morning; the morning</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">is the job; the job is on the bridge,</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and the bridge is historic:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">each picture of gray steel</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">is a narrative waiting for</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">a couple of characters.</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 17.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And my sister and I are quieted<br /> by the digraph of the Guadalupe</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">flowing over the dam into itself,</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and then a family of three</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">thumps upon the bridge,</span></div>
<div style="font: 15.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">all of us in a new history.</span></div>
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Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-13294885388071590502013-07-31T14:32:00.000-04:002013-07-31T14:33:01.568-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1fZfw-IzygWe02IawLQAe08kvDhh6X_LX75V05h49yIYNcvWzGTykwd6E4ZzoGOq7LytQhiUP2Avfo4lQp_0hAf4il3yOYdqrOvHZJyIidKCRWHSo4ZWywG-9MIJc9BDNyO94w/s1600/photo-781569.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1fZfw-IzygWe02IawLQAe08kvDhh6X_LX75V05h49yIYNcvWzGTykwd6E4ZzoGOq7LytQhiUP2Avfo4lQp_0hAf4il3yOYdqrOvHZJyIidKCRWHSo4ZWywG-9MIJc9BDNyO94w/s320/photo-781569.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5906849545550851522" /></a></p>Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-32410682169358876642013-03-19T04:19:00.001-04:002013-12-11T20:25:05.278-05:00FIVE LINES ABOUT THE SEA<div class="mobile-photo">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdK2K73xBnyNGSan6zvLGl6BJlAWFcRFwZIvAOFMo-mWzBtYhRAPgYrCZEdxGbggeAMN7Oz6SkV-J_3zK5w9sc9xX988IdkjAtUcJ-kGAaI-LJcOpj8SWtBO2hmd-eizhH6vJdw/s1600/Ocean-771498.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5856966035910511682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdK2K73xBnyNGSan6zvLGl6BJlAWFcRFwZIvAOFMo-mWzBtYhRAPgYrCZEdxGbggeAMN7Oz6SkV-J_3zK5w9sc9xX988IdkjAtUcJ-kGAaI-LJcOpj8SWtBO2hmd-eizhH6vJdw/s320/Ocean-771498.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>for Mike Sammons, 3:04 AM, 3-19-13<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">One quarter of the compass can be divided into </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> an infinite number of degrees;</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I'll meet you in the impossible shadow </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> between one of these millions,</span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">like waves or plankton or the tiny little beans </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> that turn into seaweed --</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">we are lucky and unlucky. A sailor's trinket </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> cast overboard will make a charm</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">or break a spell or bob along a deep tide </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> towards another's home or our own.</span></div>
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Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-48398138961390751792012-03-05T14:16:00.004-05:002012-03-05T14:43:30.451-05:00<div></div><div><div>I'M NEVER GOING BACK to TITTY MOUNTAIN</div><div><br /></div><div>It was 963 miles from Tijuana</div><div>to Fort Stockton, and each mile</div><div>was hungrier than the last. Amber</div><div>said to the passenger window </div><div>(and out into the blurred liquid</div><div>desert) "We should slow down,"</div><div>she said languidly "maybe we</div><div>should stop." Oddly-elbowed</div><div>cacti shot by, and disappeared</div><div>into the Infinite Behind Us. </div><div><br /></div><div>The car grew hungrier, and so</div><div>did Amber, and so did I, but I</div><div>wouldn't admit it (of course.)</div><div>Texas was beckoning, and </div><div>I was reckoning a short distance</div><div>to the fine fare of Fort Stockton. </div><div><br /></div><div>But the sun fell, and a polar moon </div><div>rose over the High Plains, and</div><div>I couldn't tell if the shining in her eyes</div><div>was tears or twinkles, but</div><div>her face was a rich lady's bracelet</div><div>with the dark desert behind her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Neither of us was surprised</div><div>to find Fort Stockton's fine dines</div><div>closed to our midnight kind,</div><div>and I watched while Amber tried</div><div>to hide her hungry anger. </div><div><br /></div><div>But at (what seemed to us)</div><div>the Last Truck Stop on Earth,</div><div>Amber's eyes were shining again</div><div>when the waitress told her of </div><div>the infamous titty mountain. </div><div>Their laughter put my Pacific</div><div>Reckoning far behind me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Amber's chirp of joy </div><div>as she looked back West</div><div>on our way out of town</div><div>brought me home again;</div><div>she saw the low rise </div><div>with its tiny craggy pike</div><div>bathed in the early light. </div><div><br /></div><div>And I agreed when she told me </div><div>as we nosed our way home:</div><div>"I'm never going back</div><div>to Titty Mountain."</div><div><br /></div><div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0898438); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); "><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRoo24UzvhrAPXKJ6Qt76dImtJv5FWX4WK24FG0-52aTYy1-aZw7-PuI4gvUZWAmLCvgkz-q548aEIPuqNVKKXttf7Wll5A9MRWlcnAkN-2_ao0wCEovExQ6t6Uf7yiMJCY-xNQ/s1600/photo-704044.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRoo24UzvhrAPXKJ6Qt76dImtJv5FWX4WK24FG0-52aTYy1-aZw7-PuI4gvUZWAmLCvgkz-q548aEIPuqNVKKXttf7Wll5A9MRWlcnAkN-2_ao0wCEovExQ6t6Uf7yiMJCY-xNQ/s320/photo-704044.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716494114687148386" /></a></div>Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-73304780491505204312012-02-23T12:30:00.000-05:002012-02-23T23:48:33.188-05:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWLmZ1TIDDORNwEbNFTjCPUw4ifsIW_Zc_VX-hAPqDoq8Ejg-PiGJPLJG6dhrD8tTeiQzsp6_y4Zz5w1jPV-VY5DQSKHx55ZWbj_6mhhocV5uJyd4tek7cXioPpIcsOp9UNJfuA/s1600/photo-713189.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWLmZ1TIDDORNwEbNFTjCPUw4ifsIW_Zc_VX-hAPqDoq8Ejg-PiGJPLJG6dhrD8tTeiQzsp6_y4Zz5w1jPV-VY5DQSKHx55ZWbj_6mhhocV5uJyd4tek7cXioPpIcsOp9UNJfuA/s320/photo-713189.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712559534522660642" /></a></p>THE CHARLESES<p>we are a tremendous<br>and foggy people;<br>your black jacket,<br>my black eye,<br>our memories<br>like ferns: older<br>than dinosaurs<p>and into the asphalt<br>and mud went the things <br>we would've lost anyway:<br>a painting that claimed<br>to solve the mystery,<br>my keys, and we were<p>paleontologists exploring<br>what makes an evening:<br>the smudge of a streetlight<br>in my eyes, the hypnosis<br>of "please listen to me"Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-40607428588003789702012-02-17T21:50:00.001-05:002012-02-17T21:50:59.051-05:00Broken SlinkiesPower lines riddle <div>back and forth across</div><div>Midtown like broken</div><div>slinkies, and I am</div><div>working on a mystery</div><div>of my own: how</div><div>does the fog </div><div>seem to rise </div><div>from the field;</div> <div>how does your</div><div>memory come along</div><div>with the dew?</div> Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-9082821255762985142012-02-16T23:05:00.001-05:002012-02-16T23:05:19.136-05:00Fireman's Lift<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglw2NsQKu8ezB6rLE8951ALO9K7RzFPichAhXgiMxKu5RyvKFnEXISkZuEQuij2Mxg-fJKst9DRJfZdgq-MecBLejuNSRRy0zOxXwaWzoVxbd2gVksPexOcZTir7pSPZm-gONTVA/s1600/photo-719137.PNG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglw2NsQKu8ezB6rLE8951ALO9K7RzFPichAhXgiMxKu5RyvKFnEXISkZuEQuij2Mxg-fJKst9DRJfZdgq-MecBLejuNSRRy0zOxXwaWzoVxbd2gVksPexOcZTir7pSPZm-gONTVA/s320/photo-719137.PNG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709950797009170706" /></a></p>(for Anthony Gaudio)<p>everyone needs a lift;<br>sometimes a great lift<br>finds us free and easy<br>and it's a great lift to know<br>you're around; sometimes<br>we find we are miles away,<br>and a lift is all we have<p>big America lifted me up,<br>and you are big America too;<br>sometimes a lift is all<br>we can do; sometimes a lift<br>is all we needed; sometimes<br>lifting is magically achieved<br>miles and months awayShaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-2076625226042541662012-02-10T00:46:00.001-05:002012-02-10T00:46:13.155-05:00THE BUTCH BRUSH<br><br>Wide as an oar<br>and black as asphalt,<br>it twines with hair <br>on the backseat<br>of my car. <br><br>Some of my best friends<br>are poems, and some<br>of my friends are poems too. <br><br>My busted backyard grill<br> is a Connecticut winter<br>in the summer heat. <br>I am a kid coming home<br>from a few months at school. <br><br>The older I get, the fewer things<br>I keep in my car. Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-18059089497056554702012-02-02T10:52:00.001-05:002012-02-02T10:52:12.610-05:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLwl4_hrJKrP-2-_qZXTAMxDh-lqlzn14Nb6bMhc2aTLSTE0JAUGQSeILVEH0JMrBffky8DexBduktoBwr8Ddtb5ypwG-qZ_flduxWgfYmJw1SfPh4LZN-z5zyurKPnkO6O-8nxw/s1600/photo-732611.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLwl4_hrJKrP-2-_qZXTAMxDh-lqlzn14Nb6bMhc2aTLSTE0JAUGQSeILVEH0JMrBffky8DexBduktoBwr8Ddtb5ypwG-qZ_flduxWgfYmJw1SfPh4LZN-z5zyurKPnkO6O-8nxw/s320/photo-732611.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704566686194706114" /></a></p><br><p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">IF THE COLONEL EVER CALLS</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica;min-height:14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing:0px"></span><br></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica;min-height:14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing:0px"></span><br></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">If late at night there is a ringing</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">and it's the Colonel, don't be frightened.</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica;min-height:14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing:0px"></span><br></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">Remember that the funny twists </span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">of the heron's neck are posture too.</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica;min-height:14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing:0px"></span><br></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">Perhaps the hair on your cheeks</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">is bristling? But the Colonel was clean-shaven.</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica;min-height:14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing:0px"></span><br></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">The Colonel's prayers were more communication </span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">than supplication; the old phone</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">is more of an appliance than a relic.</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica;min-height:14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing:0px"></span><br></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px"> If the Colonel asks for a report, tell him</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">everyone's fine; the rocky island in the bay</span></p> <p style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0px;font:12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing:0px">is white with birds. </span></p><div class="gmail_quote"><br><br><br> <br> </div><br> Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-77182726487223364592011-08-04T09:07:00.001-04:002011-08-04T09:07:27.821-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOp2xbbiNHzjeQaLpdCOwA0DcTQoENHmBVPfsM-YwM-h87bE59K4P6D0bhVUb01eHwDTUkYD8zZk6nyK06eTJgixIRurtXkLBE5NDfLWd_ErcuGGTeEwIcdbHu4ajc0_YfHBIl4A/s1600/photo-747822.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOp2xbbiNHzjeQaLpdCOwA0DcTQoENHmBVPfsM-YwM-h87bE59K4P6D0bhVUb01eHwDTUkYD8zZk6nyK06eTJgixIRurtXkLBE5NDfLWd_ErcuGGTeEwIcdbHu4ajc0_YfHBIl4A/s320/photo-747822.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636986728513245522" /></a></p>MY FIRST WORDS WERE FLOOR IT<p>From the angle of the sun<br>through my bedroom window <br>this morning, I can tell:<br>it is 1986. The community college<br>parking lot is bursting with Firebirds;<br>stereo lights are constellations. <br>At night, the clouds thicken <br>into an empty map. They reflect<br>the light from down town. This morning<br>is one minute between rains,<br>and the drops on the leaves<br>are blinking messages from the future,<br>and while decoding them, I've forgotten <br>what year it is. <p>Now that I've scraped the house,<br>it is time to decide what color to paint,<br>but I feel like the work is done. <br>The house, streaked and ugly, is<br>what happens now; the house<br>painted grey-blue with white trim<br>is in the shady fortune-cookie future. <p>When I was learning to drive,<br>my first words were "floor it."<br>But now, in the future, I know<br>so many more. My foot eases<br>the pedal down; I repeat<br>the grocery list in my head.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-89599586723733162492011-06-10T15:00:00.000-04:002011-06-10T15:01:15.601-04:00Edgar the Crawfish<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2Z7VoTdZ-XNvA78G-RTMXBs050qIQ37wmo-hU8bONF0s5kx8qXCp9tPtOQzGe0BlKlTYCBpnRwOsoe4VVLKEchD0yk1gDgFsw2fp0uv9ZazhyphenhyphenUln252iKVPdcovI-Z-Wrqir_Q/s1600/photo-775602.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2Z7VoTdZ-XNvA78G-RTMXBs050qIQ37wmo-hU8bONF0s5kx8qXCp9tPtOQzGe0BlKlTYCBpnRwOsoe4VVLKEchD0yk1gDgFsw2fp0uv9ZazhyphenhyphenUln252iKVPdcovI-Z-Wrqir_Q/s320/photo-775602.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616668217334072498" /></a></p>Ed's armor-like shell<br>is made of plastic, but<br>he magnetically points East<br>toward Chocolate Bayou <br>and the big Bay, toward <br>summertime canals<br>broken by cannonballs,<br>and toward redfish schooling<br>beneath the Twilight Princess<p>Away in New York, we sip<br>crustacean-colored cocktails<br>while we wait for hot Friday<br>night to fall. Follow Kevin's<br>curses from the back room:<br>we will lock a cherry beneath<br>the knuckle of a lemon<br>and twist up a straw for you.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-15939836018057710572011-04-30T21:14:00.000-04:002011-04-30T21:15:24.572-04:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidfOOVYZH36K_J9cpsGzgCLAlTxbKtHqdNCOyVl2If0mHTsjfzTqYa1oAtKUMXEQZVTxWacoRq_8NJ913Sgeh-dUzEUjqd8hk4OmQSQjpysju5k72-_cv4dZ8nL6f9FQRT2Dw8jQ/s1600/photo-724573.PNG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidfOOVYZH36K_J9cpsGzgCLAlTxbKtHqdNCOyVl2If0mHTsjfzTqYa1oAtKUMXEQZVTxWacoRq_8NJ913Sgeh-dUzEUjqd8hk4OmQSQjpysju5k72-_cv4dZ8nL6f9FQRT2Dw8jQ/s320/photo-724573.PNG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601550150332694274" /></a></p>Nearly to Bay Ridge, a girl in red high heels took one off on the 4th Ave. R platform to put a bandage on her foot, and I was reminded of you. Maybe it WAS you; tired memory could not tell me, but I was momentarily caught between the mystery of our present and a passion in my past, and the sight of your shoe alone on the concrete busted my heart up into a hundred thousand tiny red flowers.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-26370862992291888542011-04-15T05:51:00.003-04:002011-04-15T06:00:50.674-04:00<span style="font-weight:bold;">Ancient History</span><br /><br />Curious. What we remember<br />from across an age -- eight years<br />ago, evening light like marmalade<br />on a tar-paper roof, and a girl<br />bent out the back window. <br /><br />Coins clinking on the concrete<br />floor of the bar beneath the highway,<br />but there were no coins, but<br />there was definitely a bar.<br />Light the color of a dirty Popsicle<br />cut up on the floor by the blinds.<br /><br />But the mornings I remember best,<br />the light reflecting blue off of your bedspread.<br />I'd find a dirty shirt for work while, in your sleep, <br />you pushed yourself against your bed.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-72477432155696045252011-04-12T12:25:00.003-04:002011-04-12T12:59:16.683-04:00<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Sticky 'Rickshaw</span><br /><br />Your manners are skittery, Mr. Agnes,<br />are you frightened? The sign of the sine as defined<br />by this sunguard's line is all we have to go on, how<br />is your gradeschool geometry? The click of hoof<br />and wheel on stone will tick a thousand blessings<br />until: silence, and we are at the embassy, Mr. Agnes,<br />your reckoning delayed once more.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-15810600387922027032011-04-11T11:42:00.003-04:002011-04-11T11:52:20.019-04:00<span style="font-weight:bold;">Between the Grains</span><br /><br />What hides down inside<br />these planks of wood? <br />Stringy cellulose<br />on a bed of lignin<br />or, in softer species,<br />tracheids. But probably not<br />my keys.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-7716146839424575102011-04-08T13:14:00.004-04:002011-04-08T13:16:03.927-04:00<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Water and the Faucet</span><br /><br />From the deepest Adirondacks it comes<br />through tunnel and town, emerging <br />cold as a Coors from my tap.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-42205944711879253002011-04-07T12:28:00.005-04:002011-04-08T13:14:15.137-04:00<span style="font-weight:bold;">Sloughters Do It Better</span><br /><br />and they do it from the Morrissey<br />concerts of Manhattan to the thoroughbred<br />sales of Ocala. Sloughters are an inspiration<br />in their decadence and their eloquence. <br /><br />You who have explored the empty lots<br />of Asia. You whose birthday was attended<br />by Li'l Jon. You are the hard-chiseled soul<br />of our beloved Montechillo.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-10406193113107485642011-04-06T11:31:00.001-04:002011-04-06T11:31:28.184-04:00<span style="font-weight:bold;">Come Back Brontosaurus</span><br /><br />because I am as useless as a fire hydrant<br />in the backyard. Come over hand, and<br />meet this other hand. From the dirty<br />sands of memory and apathy, release<br />from your long necks and from your big mouths<br />a sound as big as a meteor and as bright<br />as a volcano. This is where our hearts began.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-19972569130224362052011-04-05T09:22:00.002-04:002011-04-05T09:22:57.788-04:00<span style="font-weight:bold;">While An April Storm The Cat<br /></span><br />While another April storm<br />rolls in, the cat is acting weird<br />again. He sits in the bathroom<br />staring at the wall like a depressed<br />teenager, but (like me)<br />he is approximately middle-aged.<br /><br /> I try to remind myself that his walnut brain<br />cannot stand up to my pathetic fallacies,<br />but still here I am on the bathroom floor<br />staring at the cat, trying to divine<br />my own ideas by imagining his.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578331.post-51270246775156516032011-03-29T13:25:00.001-04:002011-03-29T13:27:22.358-04:00finding fine things in dirty tides<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeUK7O8Stn68iE_C_Upx2t-Sye3w-Upe8CxPw9LVc8jc1LE6HFn4nqBeEJwtFGHUlRw3XAifSa5RjAOzjPZqU-LlbYz5FoFP2ZZGSNrom-PifKRYIuHH47vF_u6NubZX7cxV_pQ/s1600/IMG_2618.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeUK7O8Stn68iE_C_Upx2t-Sye3w-Upe8CxPw9LVc8jc1LE6HFn4nqBeEJwtFGHUlRw3XAifSa5RjAOzjPZqU-LlbYz5FoFP2ZZGSNrom-PifKRYIuHH47vF_u6NubZX7cxV_pQ/s320/IMG_2618.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589554772852543362" /></a><br />Dear friends, freaks, and bigger fishes,<br /><br />The brave among us will wade through a rare Wednesday reading when the abundantly talented and attractive Dora Malech and Kristin Jane Kelly will join us for a reading in the back room of the famous Face. This will be an unusually good reading, even by our high standards. <br /><br />6:30 PM on April 6th at the fabulous Four-Faced Liar. Bios below.<br /><br />See you there!<br /><br />Shafey<br /><br /><br />*<br /><br />Dora Malech grew up in Maryland, earned a BA in Fine Arts from Yale in 2003, and earned an MFA in Poetry from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop in 2005. She is the author of Shore Ordered Ocean (Waywiser, 2010), and Say So (CSUPC). She has taught writing at the University of Iowa; Victoria University’s International Institute of Modern Letters in Wellington, New Zealand; Kirkwood Community College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa; Augustana College in Rock Island, Illinois; and Saint Mary’s College of California in Moraga, California. She lives in Iowa City, Iowa.<br /><br />Kristin Kelly, a native Kansan, received a BA from University of Oregon and an MFA from the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She is the author of Cargo (Elixir Press), and currently lives in Northampton, MA, where she owns a women's boutique, ODE.Shaferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03853025177038771474noreply@blogger.com0