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Archive for March, 2011

painting flowers when the ground is still bare

I can not write and all I paint is flowers,

I sketch sofas and paint flowers.

this is weak and weary

this new town is beautiful but all the music has been turned down.

It is hard to dance without a beat


I vacuum my bed and eat soggy rice and lentils.

I try to write beauty, to spill poetry on paper

but this is all I can force out.

just a drip from the teapot, a small stain on paper.

strum my guitar and go to bed.


salty blue mess

I got a job offer and I cried.

I tore it apart

and chewed on it all day

I spit it out

organized the soggy pieces into a pros and cons list

and dripped tears on the paper

ink ran until it swirled in a murky puddle on the floor

I looked into the puddle hoping for an answer


salty blue mess…

So, I wiped it up

and made my decision.