Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2012 v11n1
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The abstraction of Rothko
square clouds on canvas

The drips of Pollock
rain that pours down

Snow squall lip balm
hands in our pockets

The dream of spring
still just a dream

Dust swirls in our eyes
motes from the past

Flames singe skin
no math explains that

The sadness of computers
the looks on cows’ faces

Vespers vespers vespers
the quietude of hours

Trees blow sideways
sun gone for the season

Four cold days in a row
count our blessings

Table set for two
the aroma of garlic

Coyote crying in the night
stars that never end  

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