o, i forgot
to write
All articles filed in napowrimo
west of eden
on this side of the
prelude to spring, all of that
secret world is gone
sunset
i know you’ll forget
but the sunset is golden
against the bare elms
green jello
every year the dish looms before me on the thanksgiving buffet, its lurid contents lurking, watching for the next innocent plate to appear.
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sehnsucht
sometimes the light
hits the golden leaves
just so, and i forget to breathe
another poem written
distress is what i feel at the thought
of four poems yet to be written
when it would have been ideal
to have had them done a week ago
the trouble with poetry (& poets)
billy (bless him) says
the trouble with poetry
is that it inspires the writing
of more poetry
the wild garden
all the flowers in the wild garden
have yielded their spirits to autumn’s chill
and become dry brown ghosts, their seeds
falling out of cracked heads and cones
rime
i woke one morn in winter past
the world still hushed and sleeping fast
tell me one thing before you go
tell me one thing before you go
— i would not ask you to stay —
what’s the sweetest thing you know?