Narrative Poem After Charles Olson’s “Cole’s Island”

                                         January    it was night
in a warehouse space              after an evening
of poetry performances
          A small warm
setting     very cold winter         (think black, red, and white)

Table set with antlers & roasted marrow 

                          She loud-laughing earlier at a poem
             about Vietnamese people or
I thought so         and even asked about the joke
(Did you get that on the ‘inside’? I had said) 

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He Wanted Them Donated to Western Institute

The nurse leaves to buy chicken, rice and fruit
before the cafeteria closes. I’ll always feel terrible
that I laughed when she spoke of the soul
leaving a body, how that takes awhile, the reason why
his breath rattled. I picture his body
on Cypress Mountain, a view he craved,
could never afford. His ghost-hands wet
with melting snow. His swollen shadow
clouding quiet people who never knew him.
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