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The Air of The Present Poem
The Air of The Present Poem
ache
Robert Parham
At attention for your absolute genius. Maybe
I was trying to remember some important quip
She was his muse, so to speak, and this place
By a famous person that rang of wisdom
Which took me in on Sundays deserved respect.
Or was prescient, so obviously so that even
Into what must be an immemorial aphorism. Their number growing for a reason surely;
But, over and over, as the brain muscle flexed, Then the gorgeous pair whose nest grew
The words of Uncle Lemuel recurred, indeed, In the crape myrtle before the white blossoms
Beer in hand, he cleared his throat from that Surged so the slender limbs sagged with the
place burden
Which only seemed disengaged: Not mental Of summer in their arms. Today the dogs found
giants.
The bones of a hawk-stripped squirrel. I
grabbed
My uncle came from a place where horse sense The jaws of the black Lab who fought to keep,
ruled,
To swallow, forced them open, made her cough
Where holes in ones shoes was hard but fair,
Maggie Dietz