Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #5                         Page 18
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Gold Mine


The geography of time
takes me back to music maps.
Before images, comments and “likes,”

I used my psyche to communicate,
especially in summer, with a beige
transistor radio tethered to my hip.

Like a secret prize in a Crackerjack box,
new songs would emerge from the
Beatles, Rolling Stones, Al Green.

I never knew what gold Marvin Gaye
would mine to move my feet and heart,
giving me the power to switch “on.”

  Amy Barone