Best Poem of Glen Kappy

Happy New Mexicans Or Not In Indiana
Our barrels filled with last night's rain
the puddles and the concrete stain
the hiding of the daytime lamp
the feeling of the cool and damp—
because they are not usual
is why we can be grateful. . . .
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Three Winter Poems
from 'While Passing Through'

I walk alone
in winter dusk.
Jet trails into sunset.


Navel Orange

I bite its rind
gouge it with my thumb, tear it
and it—gives fragrance.


Daddy Long Legs
perched in back room corner—
lonely trapper. . . .
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