selected past writing at 42opus
Another summer Tuesday and I'm aimless,
sleepy in the dry backyard, mind occupied
by dreams of blotter acid and sodomy. When I
try to sit up, chest tingling where the heat baked it…
2 September 2002 | poetry
She was sixty-two and widowed. Church people did not recognize her, but people at the animal shelter did. People at the shopping mall did not recognize her, but people at the library did. In this woman's life, there were more books than traffic lights, more cats than cell phones, more vegetables than credit cards.
…but it is easier to think what Poetry should be than to write it…