WILLIAM DORESKI : Just North of the Rio Grande
CALEB RIKETTS : Rhode Island
RUTH DAIGON : Musings on the Black Keys
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10:113
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Just North of the Rio Grande Rhode Island Musings on the Black Keys


WILLIAM DORESKI
Just North of the Rio Grande
Large plain clapboard houses flanked by cottonwoods and flower gardens sporting tulips, hyacinth, daffodils. Wide streets hedged and quiet. One dog saunters along the sidewalk towing a wagon with two kids aboard. I walked here along a bridle path where huge roan mares trod slowly with antique matrons straddling them conversing as if to lost husbands whose carcasses rest in the nineteenth century garden cemetery a mile or two up the road. The view of scalded hills ribbed like cattle roasting dead in the desert avers this isn't New England but Texas, however elegant the village, however stoic the old women who neither glanced at nor greeted me as I hiked along with hobo pack plastered to my back. I've walked two hundred miles from Austin to lecture an ex-President on failures he'll surely deny. The big old houses would settle comfortably in Concord, Providence, Simsbury, Weston, or Walpole. Maples would displace the cottonwoods, but the tulips would thrive. The roan mares might expect blankets in winter, but otherwise would feel at home. The ex-President, however, wouldn't accept the surly winters, wouldn't thrive in the politics, and will surely refuse to see me. The baked hills among which I trudged warned me in sandstone hues and black volcanic ripples; but I'm friendly with geology, and laughed away the fossil record that proves I'm only a moment of evolution hardly begun.
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10:113
I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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Just North of the Rio Grande Rhode Island Musings on the Black Keys


CALEB RIKETTS
Rhode Island
Outside New York City is a stapler factory. Amtrak rocks you slowly past a giant neon Swingline sign. Coming into Boston it's a Gillette sign. I went to Needham once, on commuter rail, to buy a kickscooter, used, $25. Coming back, the T attendant wouldn't let me take it on the Red Line, so I rode it all the way home from South Station. I wandered in those timetables crumpled in my coat pocket. When I lived in Boston I was going to ride every inch of the T. I never got around to it. I have woken to see New York City bathed in beautiful smog-diffused sunlight. There is a patch of grass in Rhode Island as green as I've ever seen.
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10: 113
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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Just North of the Rio Grande Rhode Island Musings on the Black Keys


RUTH DAIGON
Musings on the Black Keys
Mother of alphabets you call me from the underskin of sleep beyond the dream of dust and drought of spring floods and rings of fire. You store in the heart's hollow a perfect memory never-to-be-completed. Your soft-skinned inner arms begin the story of my life. You teach me how to enter the day how to be quiet marooned in a tongue of shade where there's no sound as startling as silence. I know what I know: how the seasons insist and encourage, how dark eyes of water glitter through grass in the spring how the heart tugs at the end of September when even the mildest breeze floatleaves down how December's crust leads me back to frozen footsteps and idling light. Snake dancing before the blaze I'm blanketed by winds protected by cave shadows but if I step out of the circle the earth worm will find me Better the cactus and its thorny geometrics than the night-blooming orchid. Better a damaged day of almost spring expanding without limits than a safe haven austere and silent. There is no such thing as no such thing and I am oracle and secret like a lone feather on the breath of a wind or the spider that spins a retreat but no web, or a moment of pure waiting.
POETRYREPAIRS #193 13.10: 113
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WILLIAM DORESKI : Just North of the Rio Grande
CALEB RIKETTS : Rhode Island
RUTH DAIGON : Musings on the Black Keys


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