Category Archives: Poetry

The Keys of the Piano

The Keys of the Piano Kim Goldberg The keys of the piano at the annual extinction concert were built from bones of vanished species—each pallid slab a different absence in the ravelling weft. And the people wept as the unholy … Continue reading

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Window

WINDOW For years I shut my bedroom window to sleep so the percussion of the city did not fetter my descent not penetrate my dreamy slump with rev of engine, shouted goodbyes, dumpster lid banging shut Now with more days … Continue reading

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Library

Library Kim Goldberg Somewhere beyond silent streets and woodlands, beyond upheaved graveyards, empty schools, dry spillways, vacant hibernaculums for little brown bats beyond the last larval foodplant for the last western tiger swallowtail an old woman sits by the sea … Continue reading

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Some Loves

Some Loves Kim Goldberg We enter the elfin wood along trillium way barely a deer trail with rotting planks spanning rivulets and mucky divides. We wobble-walk across, twisting our way deeper into the moss-hung fairy glade flanked by sword fern … Continue reading

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Alchemical Reaction

Alchemical Reaction (Villanelle for Earth Day 2017) Kim Goldberg To drink a potion is to believe flower, wing, tail can bring the change we seek. All we hold will have to be released. Has the vulture overhead come for me? … Continue reading

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Carabid

Carabid Kim Goldberg A large ground beetle lumbers across pavement his earthworm parcel twitching and flailing like a flag in a hailstorm. The beetle wobbles from the jerky weight of suppressed freedom until the pair, locked as they are in … Continue reading

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The Next Garden

The Next Garden Kim Goldberg Reading Sam Hamill’s Habitation in my unkempt garden as the sun crests the roof-line, I watch you descend into the scraggle of forgotten stalks—brittle, spent, gone to seed. Last night on Facebook, Sam said he … Continue reading

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