Dog Sled Dawn.
Simone Rivard Michaela Sullivan David Rivard en famille speaking to you, Sam Walker dying-- walking by your house, what's that in the rain? Your sign advises victors, I mean it warns visitors, watch out, railing broken -- your handrail rinkadink aluminum, and it's cracked, & the door it heads to is painted purple, Tahitian Plum the Sherwyn-Williams Co. calls it-- Dog Sled Dawn perhaps the tag you'd have loved. Watch out --I get it, Sam--in lieu of hexagram wisdom, in lieu of divination via cooling entrails, pony shadow, runes, green tea leaves in drag, jellied turtle, or squirrel tracks--I get it, totally-- ask for no promises, go this way carefully, serve your people, be cheerful, ample, feel increasingly forgiving if incapable of being heroic, be heroic, so far as that goes.
DAVID RIVARD'S newest book, Otherwise Elsewhere, is just out from Graywolf Press. He teaches in the MFA writing program at the University of New Hampshire.
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|Title Annotation:||eight poems|
|Publication:||The American Poetry Review|
|Date:||Jan 1, 2011|
|Previous Article:||And Then.|
|Next Article:||Coffeehouse, Eastern Standard Time.|