Katherine's Coffeehouse

Once, there, I saw a soldier, leaning against a barren tree,

I am a poet. Of course I speak my truth.

Help me not be normal. Help me when I am in formidable first grade, counting my fingers under my desk because math is hard and there's too much talk from inside out and every last word barges into my brain the way you did my bedroom

i dreamt last night i hid in an elevator molding my back into angles and steel

I believe in the sun even when it is not shining I believe in love even when there's no one there I believe in God even when he is silent

I've decided it's a birdcall, not the Canada goose I will be in the life I live after my next, more like the mourning dove,

We aren't much to look at, we poets, unless you look very closely, which most aren't wont to do. It's […]

They say the hands will do what the heart has felt. Not knowing who they are (might be indigenous wisdom […]

More short pieces from January.

January haiku from writing prompts