August 20 is the deadline to sign up for the online open mic August 23.
I Remember Jerry best at work
Two drawknives
A peavey
And an ax
A tractor trailer load
Of spiles
Oak trees
From up north
We’d bark
Me a teenage
Local kid
Him a father
Fresh from San Miguel
He came with Bernadette
And the girls
Work for Manuel Santos
In the cemetery
Yardwork
Leaving
How can I bear to leave this place,
take the next boat out into the harbor,
pass the buoy, toss
a penny into the water for a return?
How can I bear leaving after 39 years —
built my own house, planted my garden,
tall-trees design, skylight to watch the evening sky,
see the night flight plane lights
blinking their way across the sea.
Welcome. We’re here today to get approval to leave this place. To be told that we’re done, al fin, la fine. But if we were to place this summer, right here, on a timeline of the things that our class will create, the ideas that our class will manifest, the places that our class will go, you would find that we, the class of 2008, are not done.
A copper-white streak across the field,
Darting through dunes, power to wield . . .
A Brittany spaniel at home on the moors
Not of French, but Vineyard shores.
Like a king atop ridges he’d survey his land,
Alert ears, tail — and again sail the sand.
When he did pause and gaze with amber eyes
Upon those he loved, with his soul so wise . . .
’Twas clear Copper to no other could compare:
