In eleven months
we could have joy soon and find
the keys to our locks.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
April 4.
This is my wish today:
you, forever.
And if they take that away,
it will get better
for I will follow you
(I'll find you,
chase you,
until my fingers
slip between yours
from behind you)
wherever.
you, forever.
And if they take that away,
it will get better
for I will follow you
(I'll find you,
chase you,
until my fingers
slip between yours
from behind you)
wherever.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
April 1
I don't always choose words.
Over me, they hang
suspended, bouncing
on light, light string.
I catch them like spiders
on threaded webs,
carrying them, wisp and air,
floating past the dust mites
of my over-crowded mind.
I discard some,
annoyed,
and shudder
at their spidery-ness.
I shy from their unloveliness
and skittering shape and size.
Some words are uncomely;
eight-legged and untimely.
(Not all words are poetry.)
But some are fireflies.
April 1, 2011
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