james h duncan



neither mine, neither yours

I think of it often
a barstool on a highway
a heartbeat in a hand
two pigeons watching
through a screened window
as one letter after another
runs through the grind
as rumors lick stamps
as broken telephones seal
white security envelopes
brandishing addresses on fire
neither mine, neither yours
both of us ghosts waiting
on the other end of godís reality
television show, wisps of lost
hairs straggle on jacket shoulders
neither yours, neither mine
but they may as well sing
they may as well build a nest
between the ribs, a cage of wonder
and slight of boney-hand magic;
and so the decision comes one night;
rapscallious ravens of ventricle sky
cry and swoop and take the message
clear across the river to where the
rain and sun make love, where a house
sits alone, where a door may open,
where a ghost may blink and break
and then she, you, may finally know why

James H Duncan is a New York native, part-time Taoist, and editor of Hobo Camp Review. Although a graduate of Southern Vermont College, he considers himself a lifelong student of the road, picking up non-credit courses in local dive bars, all-night cafes, and used book stores. Plainsongs, Red Fez, The Homestead Review, Reed Magazine, and The Battered Suitcase, among others, have welcomed his poetry. Bird War Press released his fourth collection, "Maybe a Bird Will Sing," in June of 2009. More at www.jhdwriting.com


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take me home