November 12, “North Market,” from NOVEMBER: A Poem in 30 Days

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North Market

Three dead possums trick us.
We switch costumes.
Her wallet weeps in alarm of
some hungry tremors on the calendar.
A stop sign races past, shivers,
leans on a vintage Winchester .44-40.
Car thefts interrupt Paradise
as I finish this pinot noir.

excerpted from
NOVEMBER: A Poem in 30 Days
in memory of the last month of life of Lester C Coe (1925-1978)

About orangeacorn

We are, I believe, and everything is, in perpetual unfolding/enfolding/evolving. By surface appearances, we're in turmoil and fearfullness, but in fact our existence is on the edge of a new way, beyond the US versus THEM we have grown with. I encourage you to join me over coffee or tea in face-to-face encounters. I call this exercise, "CAFFEINE COMMUNION: Encounters with Paradigm Pioneers." I'm a Columbus, Ohio husband, father and citizen. I practice string band sounds from the ridges of Pocahontas County, West Virginia, the vortex of the ancient drone.
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