The Thin Museum
Verse by William Dennis
Paintings by Michael Guinn
Gallery 1
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Forty-Three BarThrough neon stains she steps on crumpled night so eagerly;
tonight Thirteenth and Cuthbert blows up hard..., no, easily. Piazza dark: there in between, where torches splash down puddles, staccato heels rush doppler—eager, though uneasily. Excitement's loops and spikes are all that's left of trade or custom; a shoulder bag in white bears innocence, though secretly. The old tube-benders flaunt their phosphors, drip cold-cathode light in her absorptive eye that renders back so meagerly. Wet hope, put up in paint, dries and cracks to longing, Mike; where she goes, we, at our age, can't go feasibly. first published in The Ghazal Page (2012)
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