Thursday, February 4, 2016

Shaniko Winter

I think of Shaiko and the loves I left there.
The frozen sage the wind was my friend.
All the theater seats ripped out-- stored under the eaves
of the once-largest building in all of Oregon
big enough to house my dilemma my indecision
about Shaniko and its location its official position.

Below zero and even somewhere right at--
Shaniko's rusty hinges squeak in the moonlight
all the stars squeaking along in a woolly chorus.

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