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by Katie Yates

said we can’t be sure of the past nor certain of the future as such the white moths and butterflies alight, the temperature of love, loves uncertain and awkward offerings as crickets sharpen the night air, dull the sound of passing trucks, a semi beautiful hum in a room with screens, with hope for attaining even a simple moment of rest, in a room in which the floor shifts and is always figuring out the next position of or in light as if you spoke to me in mixed rhyme, the sheets of music on the bed, the sheets on the bed are our age, a pattern as the photos even older than we are and the sky a mix of misery & certainty – the roof is simple, a copper incline for weather, the snows too, the winds, what we will become together and the way we find ourselves apart in the water or at the center of it, it’s too far away at times and then also too close, and the sand is fine, granite and records depth.

Katie Yates grew up in West Africa, India & Turkey.  Academic credentials fall under the rubric of Doctor of Arts, University at Albany, 1994, M.F.A. Naropa University 1991, B.A. Carleton College, 1988. Most recently she did a book Morning Stories of poetry & watercolors with Julian Wong  see www.highwatermarksalon.com.  Her favorite lunch cart is the one with the Bengali burritos.

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