The Fires of Tangerine: Poems

“My dear, where citrus outstrips us

And all the moons have fallen thus,

I feel the night grow colder 'round.

The lights pour forth like sunshine—

From the frame house bright as town,

And kisses cluster their perfect time

That love outlive the relics on the ground.”

             Excerpt from “Parking on Genius”

"I know of nobody who writes like you . . ."

             Frank Stanford

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