Tag Archives: Golden Shovel poems

seeing red 

so it goes: we smile somuch beneath the fear that time  depends on every crimson tear shedupon this fading stage.  a twist of scarlet anger, sea of red; a bed of thorns and roses, a steering wheel to our other darker side, the barrow where we bury what we hide.  glazed and … Continue reading

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always ever pondering the sky 

(A Golden Shovel after “the trick of finding what you didn’t lose,” by E.E. Cummings)  :: see, the thing that makes us tick; the trick is knowing what you’re made of and then findingwhat you never had, whatmaybe the lonely moon only … Continue reading

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Scribbling in the Margins of a Day Already Done

{a Golden Shovel poem}   The sun has risen once again, and I am full of spin and the too-tried must -y scent of syllables with not enough to say. Today, there’s nothing like the quiet I’m keeping, held here … Continue reading

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