Tag Archives: Leslie Holt dreamt she was a contemporary poet

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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Driving the Slipstream

On the last leg of the five-hour trip I hear a thought: There is such a thing as a highway slipstream. No sooner have I thought it than I become aware of two silvery ghost cars up ahead of me, … Continue reading

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Vancouver taught me 

Vancouver taught me to love the rain Two thousand miles away tonight I hear my skin ache for a downpour, this downpour on top, tapping wood, canvas, earth, sea, yes seen always barefoot running in it for forty days and … Continue reading

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A Unison

I remember you Four o’clock in the morning you told me You awoke One hundred ten miles an hour (Was it a Chevrolet?) the last five hours forgotten face-to-face with the only facts: Your speedometer registering red, Two of the … 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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Rock & Roll Rushes

Lush, quiet marshes; We kick up clouds of flight, leave cows ambivalent. ~ RK ~ 07/29/17 ~

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I am

I am a hobo at heart it seems despite my preference for first-class or at least all amenities available. ~ I am fed, watered, relaxed in the sun as the landscape flashes by. It is a brilliant day in body … Continue reading

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