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Metaphor

by Allan Peterson I do not like the step ladder Not for the frightening heights but sorrow has a heat that rises and each rung echoes the stifling silent strata of lost lives Below sorrow it is so cold and distant it might be Michigan where for three months it hurts to talk

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Of All Things

by Allan Peterson Of all things water needs least, is proof yet here is a morning grey as if awakened in masonry my once vivid dreams now piled aside rusting buttes and mesas the picturesque textbooks of waterwear as when in my writing paper covers rock There is a dog deep in the yard with […]

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Far Cardinal

by Allan Peterson Water mirror then silk then taffeta from sun so blindingly ordinary it blasted heaven from first place Last week’s mosquitoes were tiny but these were hummingbirds she said The one on your hand so blood-filled it could be the far cardinal almost incandescent on its branch

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Friction

by Allan Peterson Some trees have rubbed themselves raw from each other Like us both will die from such loving but that takes years Meanwhile we are doing the ordinary looking for horse mint for architectural detail‚ for bodies of dog flies smashed with my hat

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