Where The Creek Used To Run (Ivan Donn Carswell Poem)
In ash-fine silt that spread like sand after the flood and before the wild weeds claimed the old stream bed; ...
In ash-fine silt that spread like sand after the flood and before the wild weeds claimed the old stream bed; ...
We, the living, buried deep in selfish grief strive to comprehend the passing of your hour, minds are numbed, aghast ...
We were water babes, born in the arms of a sparkling brook that patiently took us into its heart. At ...
There wasn't room for sympathy, the epicentre moved too rapidly for that and even when we knew the anger of ...
I thought my father was far too fat - eagerly I told him so, if he was offended it didn't ...
In the beginning there was light, abundant light that truly lit the way, time was never lost in dodging flights ...
Marking time in pencil strokes across a virgin page and waiting for coincidence of heart-beat and second-hand, keying to the ...
The power of the Lake lingers still so many years beyond its fascination ending; it was there in the beginning, ...
Talk to me of love with wonder in your eyes, of limber magic flying through the veiling air and soft-edged ...
How do we discover an antidote to each other, a faculty to commune in spiteful space? Our bleeding hearts and ...
Were I not a patriot, which of course I am, I would explain just how the term remains a sticking ...
I was schooled well before he died, able at least to feel what others felt when their fathers were deceased. ...
Gnashing teeth, a grinding meet of molars crashing cuspid on cuspid and the fracture of a piece, of pressure not ...
For more than a billion years we've been nearly out of water; sincerely, a need repeatedly exposed in calamitous reports ...
Words today are how'd you say, in sad retreat, or obsolete? They slide around conducting sound, deferent to moving ground ...
It seldom snowed, they said, it might get cold but it won't be snow; well, one should guess the locals ...
No, she said, I never knew it was your first. It doesn't matter anyway. I always had an inkling that ...
In these quiet moments before the night softens the mountains of the South and deflates the clouds that float beneath ...
"Gimme 'n F" the spruiker cried, "gimme a U" and crowd near died, they knew before he came to, Whatzat ...
You awaken this time with a welcoming smile, an experience sublime, not a dream - the boner from Hell has ...
The strident sounds of silence echo in a darkened room, a beggar's tomb of emptied space and barrenness, a shameful ...
Dawn has reached the ridges to the north and a thin line of light chased the night west; it is ...
Baby waits alone in sandy shallows lying, - wretchedly crying Dam marooned at sea aware her calf is dying precious ...
Steve is gone, I hardly can believe the man wont cry again, I cannot credit that his energy wont bloom ...
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