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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>4 Shorts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">4 Shorts</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In Paris </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Somewhere in Paris alone<br>Watching rain change empty streets<br>To glistening black veins, <br>He stumbled.<br>From the hour and the Pernod.<br>Now finally, he thought, <br>I am a poet.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In Sacramento</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Hitched from hell with an old farmer.<br>Slow truck, cold beer.<br>“Where yah goin’”<br>I paused. “Home”<br>“where’s that? ”<br>I paused again and thought.<br>I don’t remember where I said.<br>I lied for some reason quickly.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The sunset that night<br>Changed hot valley clouds into <br>Into old buildings and alleys. I think<br>I cried.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In Narvick</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The snow pressed a white face<br>To the window and Hot white wine and<br>Cinnamon sticks stirred and let me forget.<br>A while anyway.<br>I am walking fire. I burn<br>Inside waiting with smoke hot.<br>I am never dark. The smoke of my breath<br>Is frankincense<br>And I am transparent</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The Death of the Cameo</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Or<br>I am frightened by Transition</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=541570" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Woman, <br>No more commas.<br>Commas are pauses<br>For a breathless moment<br>Suspended<br>A slight eddy of Time<br>And then you move on. No more commas please (I can’t take it) <br>I will seek and find you something new.<br>An exclamation point! <br>And for me a question mark.<br>And in the middle of the night we will switch<br>Love, no more commas</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Stuart+Welch">Stuart Welch</a></strong></div>

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