ballet
Type
Poetry

Gods of my youth

At night we leave the colony to go to the ballet:
Balanchine, mixed repertoire, Tchaikovsky.
It’s American Girl Night and the girls in pigtails and gingham
carry dolls in pigtails and gingham,

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Type
Poetry

Greenslopes in March

for H

alternate versions of tom thumb’s blues
you’re done up like somebody’s dream and that band
next door makes young marble giants

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