Category Archives: Les Holt: Journal Entries from the Edge

How to be an elder

Both types are muted messages. Muted messages that whisper “I was here.” Messages that span time and distance, their power made all the more sorrowful when I remember at what cost they were purchased. Messages all the more sorrowful for their silent, “Please forgive me for leaving traces of myself.” Continue reading

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Inside Out

What if you fall asleep with words and questions jammed in your head like a subway station platform packed with people pushing, they board the train, full and full, car after car, full with words and questions, the doors close … Continue reading

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Lear’s Beautiful Boat

I am nearly 13 hours asleep in this nearly empty place together with a sofa and a coffee table adrift. ~ I feel like the poem come alive, The Owl and The Pussy-cat out to sea in a pea-green boat. … Continue reading

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What’s the difference?

What’s the difference … if Leslie Holt dreamt she was a Contemporary Poet or not? Continue reading

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Don’t need no stinkin’ prize

I think The B-52’s should get The Gelber Prize for The Love Shack, don’t you? Leslie Holt dreamt she was A Gelber Prize Winner. Continue reading

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Decompression Commences

“Decompression Commences” The cicada is singing for me, in the grand absence of spelling. ~ RK ~ 8/17/13

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Utility POV

“Utility POV” “…suffice. I cannot write more than a few lines by hand without my hand and wrist cramping – it’s instant pins and needles for my fingers. Carpal tunnel is why I fail to seize the day.”

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