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James Moore

Winter 1982

On My Birthday

By James Moore

If I want, I can read a novel from beginning to end without interruption. It's my day and if I want to spend all afternoon on the lawnchair, trailing slowly […]

Winter 1982

Snow

By James Moore

They are making the world all over.This time there is the furred breath of snow.It is silent forever, now, in the new world.Silent and calm and falling whitely.The snow is […]

Winter 1982

Winter Smoke

By James Moore

white manes of wild light behind the black branches of the dying elms that line the street, withered like amputated limbs that have been stuck in the ground so someone […]

Winter 1981

The Valley Called Curve

By James Moore

Josef Sudek, photographer (1896-1976) Say you think too much; and say you think in squares: airless, sharp, all too clear. Sudek says: you need an egg. He placed them everywhere […]