|Crepuscular Rays. Eleven Mile Overlook. Deschutes National Forest. Oregon. August 18, 2012.|
All my poems are love poems
scribbled on damp,
whiskey stained paper
in one dive bar or another
On cocktail napkins
or coasters, pulled
from underneath my third glass,
Floating in a lost hour
found somewhere on
the long drive towards
my empty home.
And I should be there
or there or there
again, but I stop again
on the way home,
Climbing slippery stone steps to
the top of the castle-like tower,
smelling the rain, feeling
the cold winter kiss
Blown by the constant freezing wind
to my skin.
Under the tower, a dead volcano
thrusts us up, exposed, into the storm
but I pull that soggy napkin
from my pocket anyway
And I try to write another verse
before my paper is ruined
by the weather.
|Rocky Butte. Portland, Oregon. c.2008|
The Properties of Dust
|Paulina Peak & Camper. Newberry National Volcanic Monument. Oregon. August 17, 2012.|
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A. F. Litt on vocal.media https://vocal.media/authors/a-f-litt