Three Poems by Peter Waldor


I have mastered the art
of going deep
into the wilderness
and discovering
I don’t mean
the nothing
the masters labored at.

Damsel Fly

I lose the trail
and trample
a few columbines
that would have lasted
a few more days,
perhaps long enough
to let a damsel fly
sip from their bowls.

A Wrinkle

Nothing between
a lily that lives
a few days
and a pine
that lasted
a thousand years
and fell from
the ravine today,
or a wrinkle
in a roll of silk
provisioned away
in the emperor’s
never to be used.

About the author

Peter Waldor's Poetry has appeared in the American Poetry Review, The Colorado Review, The Iowa Review and Mothering Magazine, among others. Over the years,…

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Issue 06 · August 2009

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