do following things for every single line



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1 determine strong/weak strees.(accent) ex) between, Radio. Do this every single word in the poems

2 what is verse? couplet, triplet quatrain, sestet, octave etc?

3 rhythms lamb, trochee anapest, dactyl etc?

4feet? trimeter, tetramater? Pentameter, Haxameter etc?


first poem is in red and second one is in blue




The first time I walked


With a girl, I was twelve,


Cold, and weighted down


With two oranges in my jacket.


December. Frost cracking


Beneath my steps, my breath


Before me, then gone,


As I walked toward


Her house, the one whose


Porch light burned yellow


Night and day, in any weather.


A dog barked at me, until


She came out pulling


At her gloves, face bright


With rouge. I smiled,


Touched her shoulder, and led


Her down the street, across


A used car lot and a line


Of newly planted trees,


Until we were breathing


Before a drugstore. We


Entered, the tiny bell


Bringing a saleslady


Down a narrow aisle of goods.


I turned to the candies


Tiered like bleachers,


And asked what she wanted –


Light in her eyes, a smile


Starting at the corners


Of her mouth. I fingered


A nickle in my pocket,


And when she lifted a chocolate


That cost a dime,


I didn’t say anything.


I took the nickle from


My pocket, then an orange,


And set them quietly on


The counter. When I looked up,


The lady’s eyes met mine,


And held them, knowing


Very well what it was all








A few cars hissing past,


Fog hanging like old


Coats between the trees.


I took my girl’s hand


In mine for two blocks,


Then released it to let


Her unwrap the chocolate.


I peeled my orange


That was so bright against


The gray of December


That, from some distance,


Someone might have thought

I was making a fire in my hand













A valentine for ben franklin who drives a truck in california


I cut the deck




and found a magician




driving a mack truck




down the California grapevine.




His eyes were glistening Japanese beetles,  




and his hands were surveyors of the moon.  




He pulled a carnation




out of his sleeve,




and offered me a ride.




I took the flower and said I was leaving  




to be an illusionist. He said




he specialized in cards




and sleight of hand.




I touched his mouth and ears




with my lips,




                   “Keep on truckin,”




I said.




But he laughed and told me a bedtime story.  




His body was an elm.




His mouth was filled with grapes.




His hands turned my body into new honey.




Now I am home alone,




reading directions




for sawing a beautiful woman in half.  




First you start with a mirror … .




Before I turn down




the crisp sheets of my bed,




I shuffle the tarot deck.




But the magician is missing.




Is he




still driving the freeways of California?




Or is he




only an illusion




in my own  













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