Poems by Bruce Louis Dodson

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Postcard from Rio

by Bruce Louis Dodson

From Canary Summer 2020

Bruce lives in the Dalarna River watershed, surrounded by white birch trees and a surprising variety of mushrooms that appear in the fall. When winter comes meandering deer leave tracks in deep snow.

Dusty candles stuck in cola bottlenecks along the curbsides
Flicker nervously against the evening traffic
Sea breeze flavored with the scent of ethanol exhaust and lipstick
Little altars set by fire plugs, street-side tree trunks
Doorway entrance steps and stop signs
Offer small protection.
Cigarettes are left
A bit of candy
Shiny coins . . . still new
Unspendable
Made worthless by spectacular inflation . . . time and place
Small offerings left for spirit gods displaced by fire and greed
Their forests gone forever
Forced to live upon the streets of Rio de Janeiro
With their people sleeping on the sidewalks
Homeless servants, petty thieves and whores.
These ancient spirit gods are angry
They will have revenge.




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