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Poem

Dada taught me cards.
Sitting in his suit of pants and vest.
A fistful of joker-red hair strewn across his brow.
His big belly like a cannon ball.

Poem

Five children clasping mittens
could not hug the entire trunk.
Whole hands could hide in the folds of its bark.
James, the tallest boy in class,
could sit on a root,

Poem

I am the word juggler.
I juggle the words
like swords.
I slice sense
with poetic license.

Poem

Toothless, she kisses
with fleshy lips
rounded, like mouth
of a bottle, all wet

She bruises your face
almost, with two
loving tree-root hands.