(Click to enlarge)
a man
about to escape, thinks
slows his pace
twelve minutes, in a doorway
begins his steps, storm
risks decoy
returns on Orange Street

by the window
in the same notebook
falling snow appears
no more than a shadow”

a long wait settles
“never miss time”

newspapers, magazines
notices and ads
one strikes a chord
twenty-five years
patch of woods, Philadelphia
found murdered
never any clues
questions dropped
they could not identify
the boy

enough for freedom

“Hello Andy, I’ve found a new page 143 worthy of honing down into another mysterious poem. It’s taken from Paul Auster’s New York Trilogy, the book called Ghosts. My poem, with text not taken from the page, is called “enough for freedom.” In this found poem, I took a few liberties and the text of the poem does not follow precisely the words chosen. Happy reading! -alfred booth”

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