why we like Right Hand Pointing


p d   l y o n s
Herding Goats In Ithaca
she went a way up into the high lands.
she had wounds to nourish.
ghosts to speak to.
her own kind to avoid.
Last Poem Before Oregon
                for Olga Blu’
Slept in groves of oranges
Visited by only wet-nurse bees
Shaded by impossible leaves
Clouds drifting shapes of which made harlequin
Dreams disturbed gently by nimble hums
A voice like Marcello young again
 from issue 59.
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