All that energy scibbered away.
It sprung me: toss it in or let it out?
Maybe I could have spent it better
making something to hold onto…a nice pot.
Who knew that asphalt could be a tender touch,
that this patient, old-friend town of mine
would roll out padding and take me easy,
Who isn’t haunted by the roaches that creep through the brain’s kitchen at 4 a.m.? I couldn’t see and create myself when no one else even bothered to see me. So I signed up for some expensive coursework. You can’t cram for exams at the School of Hard Knocks.
Two poems looking back on an old romance
Listen to his heart’s tongue. You only know your own jealous blood. You’ve been burned and betrayed before—that shows. So now you would stifle all skin—fine or fiery. But now’s time to trust him and your sleek passion.
Well coming into the Holiday buying season I always remember the appliance years–first apartments and all– and my tribute to the last appliance-gift I received. It’s a beauty–and it’s season is coming so I thought I’d revisit it.
I’ve always had an active Fantasy life. In love you’ve gotta have it. But, moderation in all things, I suppose.