First Memory

The picnic table. My sister’s
vaporous hair. Neighbors
in their unknown clothes.

I’m wild in blue shorts,
striped top. My mom’s
in my sister’s body.

The tenants of the lawn
rumble their tongues
like little engines and tickle

my untouched ankles.
I run the path of planets
around the wild grass

between the grass
between our houses. My
arms make airplanes.

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Becoming Winter

Becoming Winter has summer become your winter does sun on your skin make you shiver do happy voices and laughter drifting in sound like a howling north wind to you do you shut shutters close windows pull down the shades curl up inside while leaves and flowers are unfurling hibernating June, July and August just […]

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brink and teeter

brink and teeter nominal approach amidst the expected disarray empty vessels side by side softly into the heavy night as blank screens stare back wide and beauty seems beyond reach in the blue darkness of our lost ways all the ways up and more to fall these walls climb my dreams down from mountains the […]

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Describing the Beach to an Android

Don Clermont currently holds a B.A. in French literature and has published literary research in Bishop’s University’s Journal of Eastern Townships Studies. As an emerging writer, he has also published poetry in SUNY Plattsburgh’s Z-Platt, 50 Haikus and Z Publishing House’s New York’s Best Emerging Poets. A few of his favorite contemporary poets are Nick Laird, Lloyd Schwartz, and Maria Nazos. Describing […]

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