Poetry

At home

An open door at midnight, summer.
Naked in the orange glow of a street light.
Silent houses across the road facing:
The blue-black sky curtaining down
Behind their peaked roofs.

Cars and trucks on State Highway One:
A constant echoing roar, punctuated
By the bark of a dog on Clark Street,
Which sets off other dogs, noise-spots,
That map the town around me.

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