The ache in my jaw reminds me
of my age, that I'm
still cutting teeth on
broken sage and giving up
meat is my best bet,
because I'm not a dark
horse in the running yet.
Comedies, Histories, Tragedies
it's all the same-
since the invention of the game
-since the pretenton of the working day.
Since the invention of play.
Bright lights flash, and another cliche
and then another, let's call it a day.
Whatever did people do without paved walk
Whatever did they do without small talk
Whatever did they do without broken chalk
I'd say their day was still pretty full
Without all the stupid push and pull
Without all that pointless bull.
Children ran through the fields, wild and free,
that's what they told me, that's how it used to be
I wasn't sure, but I trusted it--
but they are all gone now, no one left to aquit.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
-
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...
-
husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
-
hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
-
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...
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
-
In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but...
-
confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
-
Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
No comments:
Post a Comment