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Two Poems


Climate

In this heat and marathon drought
the seasons have gotten confused.

Two tarantulas crossing the road this
morning, looking for love as they do

this time of year, although we're
actually just into the fall, while

the struggling young oak in the yard,
which normally breaks its buds in

February when it's normally raining,
brought out its new leaves just a

month ago in early September.
How can this be, and

what will the tree do
now when winter arrives?
 

Foreign

The once elegant facade of the
hotel in Caracas bore
the ravaged expression of a leper,
face of the moon, pocked
with the craters of
three dozen .50-caliber
bursts of a machina from the most
recent attempt at a revolution.

Inside, it was an ordinary
dark hotel, pretending
to its everyday pathos. "Sorry
for any inconvenience."
The concierge replied
to my inquiry in English.
"Reparations
have already been planned."


Dan Gerber

Particles: New & Selected Poems
Copper Canyon Press


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