Sarai Austin

writer

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Recent Posts

  • Once more into the abyss of the time beyond. November 4, 2017
  • address October 13, 2017
  • Keyboard (Sarai’s 9/11 poem) October 10, 2017
  • trifles October 9, 2017
  • biting October 4, 2017

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  • Who I Am
  • Obituary Card
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  • Easter Sunday, April 16, 2017
  • June, 1976
  • Peace Pilgrim

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      • 46 Postcards
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        • All Action Is Useless
        • Answers
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        • Flash And Nails Part two
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      • Provocative Duet
      • Sassafrass – blues poems
        • A Little Unfinished Song
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        • I’m A Hog For Ya, Honey
        • Junky
        • Kansas City Blues
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        • 1970s – undated and unordered
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        • After June, 1976
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        • 1997-1
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        • 1997-3
        • 1997-4
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        • 1998 Poems
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      • 1999 Poems
        • 1999 Poems 1
        • 1999 Poems 10
        • 1999 Poems 2
        • 1999 Poems 3
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        • 1999 Poems 6
        • 1999 Poems 7
        • 1999 Poems 8
        • 1999 Poems 9
        • 1999 Poems undated
      • 2000
        • 2000 Poems 1
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        • 2000 Poems 3
        • 2000 Poems 4
        • 2000 Poems 5
      • 2001
        • 2001, April – June
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        • 2001, January
        • 2001, July
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      • 2002
        • 2002 Poems 1
        • 2002 Poems 2
        • 2002 Poems 3
        • 2002 Poems 4
      • 2003
        • 2003 Poems 1
        • 2003 Poems 2
      • 2004Poems
        • 2004Poems-1
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        • 2004Poems-3
      • 2005Poems
        • 2005Poems-1
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      • 2006Poems
        • 2006Poems-1
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        • 2006Poems-3
      • 2007Poems
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      • 2008 Poems
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    • Easter Sunday, April 16, 2017
    • making the bed
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Sarai Austin

up to> 2000
back to> 2000 Poems 2
forward to> 2000 Poems 4
 

2000/spaces

I like large spaces, room to move.
My eye must have horizon,
is arrested by too much clutter,
held hostage by the distraction
of details.
The billions of daily decisions,
silent behind our acts,
dragging us down inch by inch
until that voice speaks up –
not one more thing.

Not one more petty decision.
I keep saying I have unutilized
executive skill
that I don’t know how to use.

An autistic woman I saw on t.v.
says she thinks in pictures
and not words.
She learned to calm herself,
in a device for cattle,
and went on to design humane
chutes which send cows
to a peaceful, pain-free death.
A story with the kind
of perfection I love.

Lately I am letting go
of the need for any reward,
which I hope will make it easier
to keep going.

3/2/00

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