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Patrick James Dunagan – The Dalles, The Dailies

Patrick James Dunagan

The Dalles, The Dailies



            Born in Portland, Ore., on Oct. 20, 1923, Mr. Whalen grew up in The Dalles on the Columbia River.

                      –            San Francisco Chronicle obit, Thursday, June 27, 2002







             I listen
             as I eat the street for supper
             listen to the pain songs
                          of Mexico.
             Flashes of returning
             come with the birds.


                      –     Joseph Ceravolo




Back of feeling
not feeling
that day might bring
best parts
gone horribly
wrong




_____________





Love and for no good reason
– A. Notley)
between feeling and not
we do what we do




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By grace few
along the rail creating cycle




_____________





Through white slits of mountaintops
tips of pines below
off heights drawn from wind
feathered wings soaring know




_____________





What prior hands gripped
choral discipline deficit




_____________





Thing is map
world a globe
no concern prior
loss of it




_____________





List the things we do
List the names we know
List the birds of song
List to list again




_____________





Care now
the here
the air
we breathe




_____________





Miss Consideration
there’s the rub
smother the mask
and behind the eyes
hide thy wit




_____________





Spit or spew
song comes




_____________





Opposable thumb
brain digits rolling biz




_____________





Trucking it a la Rimbaud
pain of scarcity




_____________





How the tail
transforms easily
to a left thing
the animal must handle
as though the appendage
itself were migrant




_____________





Alive in all this wet heat




_____________





Come upon a pair of eyes
on the page




_____________





Thing for thing
among whorls of word




_____________





Plain day speech
played against light
dark words bare




_____________





Slender tinged fern tip
bright with excitement




_____________





Among the flowers a child
in the early morning light




_____________





No word
for before
that moment
no more




_____________





Oxy hydra drawl
ennobles night’s
symphonic glut




_____________





Typing listening




_____________





Mired wing-down in tuber
deep sound




_____________





Voices in the head
preferable
to no voices at all




_____________





You are gone
in spaces left
an image persists




_____________





To tree to sky
day come




_____________





As ever & again
doing the same
day turns to day




_____________





As though words
had hopes extant




_____________





Earth turns flesh
deliberate poles of purpose




_____________





Kitty breaths
dear to be near




_____________





Moving vowels
bristling motors
the lawn goes wild




_____________





More bombs
bomb the world
the world I’m in
missing you more
bombs the world
missing you




_____________





Fiery inchoate




_____________





Were I not I
no such thing
now would be




_____________





O body o ghoul
render free
the fantastic chorus




_____________





Night lights shine
aural era discipline




_____________





Inside of Milton heroic
couples stroll paths
in valley’s lush green
bright echo of day




_____________





I seems incredible




_____________





Sweet singular
joyous expression
back of breath




_____________





It’s not easy
doing this while
that goes
all the while




_____________





Alone
traipsing a field of white




_____________





Avatar of cove & briar




_____________





Squirrel hops from branch to quivering




_____________





May all of it come again
every day every day




_____________





          for O

Wing of bird dipped low
upon the horizon




_____________





Poet be poet let
it be that poet
love poet let it
be that




_____________





“…it’s all the same fucking day”
o Joplin o bright day




_____________





Poetry who cares hooray!




_____________





Polished stone working-class
understanding




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Poiesis verb flaneur
bait plays patience




_____________





Hundreds of years for shards
of once moved-in space




_____________





Nothing past her hesitant kitty moment of becoming




_____________





Statement alone is not enough
inlet the subject




_____________





Behind words sound
again again
in the middle of everything




_____________





Edible visual stimulus




_____________





“Consult a spiritual lawyer”




_____________





21st Century ventriloquism
from confusion rises consciousness
annihilation of common sense




_____________





Mid arch hi-flier
honeyed out




_____________





Moonlight isn’t like
‘in the movies’ the stars
don’t ‘look good’




_____________





Names calling out a world
for parts of a whole




_____________





Wreaking havoc abroad
havoc at home havoc in
the stars would they




_____________





Eyes is words
abstraction of math
dark path to walk
engaging vicious sun




_____________





The poem
the poem alone
the poem alone attests

the poem




_____________





From a woman I knew
not how to talk to:
“a ghost of the real
inhabits me as well as you”




_____________





Father no address farther
than I have come




_____________





Light between the shades
for a portion
of the long run day




_____________





Get tongue unraveled
chords to blow




_____________





o was there song
worth praise when high
above it all
the shit came clean




_____________





Thing enough
specimen




_____________





Anything but complete
useless sounds
as if eternal
now the feeling




_____________





Only the voices
recognized
become known
and implanted
the rest go down
by way of the shore
tossing gold coins through the air

 
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