Erasures, Sediments*

[Après] Après.

The storm went through
high winds last night
light rain

The biggest surprise
when I opened the blinds
Bare branches

against cloud
brilliant yellow glow
against deep blue



Life I haven’t been able
to write But there is
work and all the other

aspects daily
damned Since moving
across that strange

and arbitrary border,
I’ve tried
affected by the fact

of being American
I doubt that you can
really know unless you’ve

lived elsewhere
for a significant period
of time

Staying out of it
is, of course, impossible
But the alternative

would be so much worse
I’m worried about what
may happen, and dismayed

that no matter
I won’t really feel
my deepest desires

where peace is truly
where the natural environment
where the poor and disenfranchised

where every human being
matters, where money
no longer

calls the shots
know that the border
is just a line on a map



Lemon-yellow, white almond
Autumn vines on wrought iron
After the dark, tree-lined streets

Lunettes sleep in glass cases
In a café, a final coffee
the stools already on their backs

bend forward, straighten up
look past terrain privé
Your hip against mine

No need to speak

*a found poem sequence


In response to the cassandra pages: Après, Biting My Nails, Evening Walk.

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