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P o e t r y . . .

	Poetry		Poetry		Poetry
	Poem half in the manner of Charles Wright All things aspire to weightlessness Some place beyond the lip of language Some silence, some zone of grace Between minivan and gas pump Sunday morning solitude Family-name and loneliness It’s the shape beneath the shape that summons us, the juice That spreads the rose, the multifoliate spark Not the fear of falling, the fear of falling during the coming-out party, amidst loose-lipped chroniclers -shrieking white faced gibbons along the riverbank- Poetry’s what’s left between the lines- A strange speech and a hard language It’s all in the unwritten; it’s all in the unsaid Between the T and the silent... Rain and drizzle, benchmark and barre What didn’t happen, happened somewhere What’s just in reach is just in[comprehensible] Are these the ends of things or beginnings? Are we more or less ourselves once they’ve come and gone? by Justin Olmanson
	P r o g r e s s i o n
	Early stuff	Love	Death	Homage	Religious	Humorous
	read at your own risk...	discovered, lost and squandered	death	various people	prayers, hymns and questions	pastoral-comical comical-tragical humorous ironical comical pastoral

This page was last updated on 01/13/01 .

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