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Caroline Misner Poems
A Hard Climb
The frill of trees jig their lady skirts about their knees, buckling under the weight of the wind’s hard approach. When we exhale, our breaths dangle,
Learning to Die
Death is not sudden, death does not grieve, Death takes a while to achieve. Death comes in layers; Death is the mouse
Dahlia in the Window
Pale and translucent as pink lemonade, the morning sun filtered its petals to pure lightness;
A cardinal and wren twirl together among the branches of an alder;
There is a crack in the clouds where sunbeams leak. If I stand beneath their lustrous rays will the sun shine done only on me?
The Potential of Stars
They hold the power to pinch the sky, little eyes, a multitude so vast they outnumber us all who have ever lived and ever will;
The sun scoured the horizon until the sky bled, a scarlet strip of grit. We wandered through a valley where vacant swings dipped,
The old town buzzes and people swarm to finger the treasures offered from pushcart stalls, the golden apples and lumpy pears.
To An Alcoholic
I am your enabler. Here I find my awakening, a purpose to your dwelling, juggling excuses like a seasoned acrobat.
Poor fish who never made it to August in 1963. It was a good year, that year
The round notes eat these humble associations, their clangor rising in off-key mist like the voices of tired old women in hats of straw, improbable in their perfection.
A crackless carapace, pale and blue as the ocean that swarms around him, he glides like a sailboat along the guileless waves; he leaves
A Trail of Peanuts
A Trail of Peanuts Today nothing green will grow, so I paint leaves on the trees
The waves are heaving like a series of sighs, lifting squandered bits of sun that bruise the shore, flecks of quartz in teal green water. No foam survives
Comments about Caroline Misner
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Hard Climb
The frill of trees jig their lady skirts
about their knees, buckling
under the weight of the wind’s hard approach.
When we exhale, our breaths dangle,
rearranging syllables and accents
the Yanks still claim we carry.
The clouds recoil in pieces of time;
inch by inch they scud across the sky,
downy spools drawing in their lines.
The black hills ball against the blue,
splash their painted trees, golden
glowing corridors to wander through.
Dropped leaves assemble into cobblestones
of amber and scarlet upon the path,
carpeting the gnarled and ...