My signature style
is just to blab.
To let it all hang out
like excess flab.
Why must I tell you people
every little thing?--
Sentiment too lengthy for page,
words too choppy to sing.
I would hate to think
some see me as a fraud
who does things without thinking
that they could not, or,
should not applaud.
But even with a gallery of images in mind
the words that come out are too honest, I find.
(and they are ugly,
they are so ugly)
No covering up with watercolors today,
Every talent here has been washed away.
Only with my signature you are left
the loopy, whirly, twisty, bereft.
Tickle your toes. . .
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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Letter to Kate For William Blake My Catherine Sophia, as you would be known. You were just Kate. Child of Pity, full of mouth. Widened but i...
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
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Telegram For William Carlos Williams To{Florence Herman RECEIVED DIFFICULT NEWS /stop. ARE YOU AT ALL AVAILABLE?/stop. JUST BOUGHT THE HOUSE...
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That previous December, a little voice was coyly in-treat-ing: "Take an angry butcher knife to your hair, and paint it the color of a s...
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Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
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Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
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like a hand that holds an ankle, I felt powerful in your arms this dancing, this pointed push, this bygone cloud. with my face in your belly...
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At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
Poets United Contributor
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