Paul Blackburn

P
Paul Blackburn
7th Game  :  1960 Series
—for Joel— Nice day,
sweet October afternoon
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Brooklyn Narcissus

Straight rye whiskey, 100 proof
you need a better friend?
Yes. Myself.

The lights
the lights
the lonely lovely fucking lights
and the bridge on a rainy Tuesday night
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The Café Filtre
Slowly and with persistence
he eats away at the big steak,
gobbles up the asparagus, its
butter & salt & root taste,
drinks at a glass of red wine, and carefully
taking his time, mops up
the gravy with bread—
The top of the café filtre is
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Ritual X.  :  The Evening Pair of Ales
EAST OF EDEN
is mountains & desert
until you cross the passes into India .
It is 3 o’clock in the afternoon or
twenty of 8 at night, depending
which clock you believe .

AND WEST IS WEST
It’s where the cups and saucers are,
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Journal: April 19 : The Southern Tier
I

look out the window in upstate New York, see

the Mediterranean stretching out below me

down the rocky hillside at Faro, three

years, two months, fourteen days earlier .

8:25 A. M.

Rosemary gone back to sleep, pink & white . I

stand at the livingroom window drinking coffee, open
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