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July 2013, vol 9, no 2

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Steven Carter


East shore—

So many faces gazing up at me from these colorless waves—

Now, thanks to a sullen evening sun, Crane Mountain and the moonrise negotiate an uneasy truce.

Hah! Next thing you'll say—the North Star is a tuning fork; all is well!

—Except for one thing, damn it. Walking northward up and down golden hills and valleys of dream, I never reach my childhood home, 3216 Emerson Street in Palo Alto.

Know thyself—

trembling for both of us
our reflections
—cold ripples