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spring 2012



featuring the art of Bill Rogers

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Observations on the Knobbed Hornbill
spring 2012

I am wearied by your account of the facts
What flatulence!
This litany of behaviors and parts
You recount them so well
You have him pinned

A golden axe sits heavy
Upon a cushion of blue
And yet the Lord of South Sulawesi
Receives no proper burial or mourning
Through such means

You have pulled down the trees
And used them to build the boxes
In which you mount beetles and moths
The red cap of a god has been removed
And made into cataloguing ink

The afternoon sunlight
Slowly erases your utterance
Like the cassettes of yesteryear
Baking on pine in a thrift store window
Never more to be played

Bill Rogers 9/16/11
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Bill, I know from this poem that you are hurting deeply. I am so sorry. Take good care of yourself. I know you as a nice guy -- you are always welcome in my journal.

Again, I wasn't hurting badly. I was expressing my feelings after watching a very dry lecture.

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