where the writers are
Equinox Poem

Paul Shippee, forty year friend,

Buddhist pilgrim, migrant engineer,

has finally anchored his rammed-earth

house in the Rockies at 8,000 feet.

By the sluggish khaki river north of Willits,

we chew through friends and lovers,

flicking pistachio shells

onto the murky waters, watch them

sink, sucked downstream.