1. Awareness of Joy
  2. Birds at Recess
  3. The Call Back
  4. A poem to commemorate dennis's road rash, broken rib, concussion and the bruising of his fourth cranial nerve
  5. Oakland Is Burning
  6. Finding Paul's Marker
  7. Freeway
  8. Carolton
  9. Grief in a Dry September
  10. A Headache on Tuesday, February 26, 2002
  11. heaven
  12. A Hillside Pond in the Rain
  13. Hoarder
  14. L.O.F. (In Her Door)
  15. Intersection
  16. Iporaõ 1960
  17. A Janitor on Hansen Way
  18. laundry
  19. Lucy in the Streets with Ashes
  20. The Man in Blue
  21. When the Morning Air was Cold
  22. Night Stand
  23. objectification
  24. (Quoting Emily Dickenson)
  25. Racoon Eyes
  26. Red Lips
  27. Reflections on a dislocation
  28. The Runway
  29. sails
  30. San Antonio Station, January 3, 2005, 4 Pm
  31. Scene Report
  32. Shark Teeth
  33. Prayer for an Old Woman
  34. Encounter in an Unfinished Room
  35. Y Sovendo Morréu com Raiva
  36. On the Strand
  37. Tethered
  38. Before the Beast
  39. The Ties that Bind
  40. Viewing Bald Eagles
  41. Voyeur
  42. What I Learned on Summer Vacation
  43. What I Learned on Summer Vacation
  44. Without You
  45. Love Poem to You Written on a Mountain
  46. Your Tongue is Soft and Your Teeth Slide in Easy


We remember the treacheries of
Our previous steps on this road when
The ice's solidness promised us support.
We are remembering how
It's rocks and trees that
Bind this road to our feet and
It's downward it leads us the same as
The ice that takes us too fast.

We are going to the ice bound river.
Where it will assault the grass and trees.
In spring there it will break free
Then it will conquer the meadow
Water will subdue the stones.

The  grass is golden in winter.

I treasure the blades
Piercing the metal
I treasure their straightness
Their softness on the meadow.
I treasure the life each promises,
The life hidden today in the roots of this ice.
I treasure the snails and pupae and worms
And the green scents of next summer
Bouying the birds that swoop and soar
Swiveling between the strongboxes of ice.

Although ice is a selfish solid
Every lock eventually unlatches.

I see ice and sky.
A gunshot haunts the far away.
A hovering slips behind the trees.

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    Stephen Riddle
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    Viewing Bald Eagles
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Stephen Riddle,

© Stephen Riddle 2009, All Rights Reserved
This Document Last Modified: Sunday August 02, 2009