It was Trapper Keepers
and binders, the smell
of vinyl, paper, and chalk,
how the window sounded
cracked open, because
September can still be
warm. And whenever I
I Do Not Know Which Days I Am Celebrating Read More »
Or perhaps you picture
a black-clad student in
back of class, wilting
on the drug of the day,
carving punked out words
into a silent desktop.
I Am Not That Poet Read More »
Wide eye open, top
of the pyramid scheme,
stairway to some kind
of heaven. Or did you think.
For months, we tried to be rid
of you. You, too thick. Too prickly.
Too wandering amid the many
fingered hedges and greenery.
Much too, much too, invasive.
there is the difference
they know when to hit high notes
nightingales
So Much the Better Read More »
First, though, I must drink decaf coffee,
because why bother with anything else
until that piece has been done? It’s not
My left hand has
done most of the work
for me, built a thick
callous on my middle
finger where rests
Based on a writing prompt from Poetry Super Highway for National Poetry Month, 2024 and this news article:
“The US was getting too expensive. So this artist relocated to France for a slower-paced life”
By Silvia Marchetti, CNN
My Dear Friend, the Artist Read More »
