new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer's block
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Immaculate Conception
Not what you would think but
Poems as pure,
Crystalline
As the snow
That’s driven us
To perfection.
Poems as pure,
Crystalline
As the snow
That’s driven us
To perfection.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Supposition
What does it mean,
To grope? To an inquisitor,
I suppose it must
Mean to find yourself
Feeling uncertainty when
It happens
You find yourself fumbling
At the end of a rope.
To grope? To an inquisitor,
I suppose it must
Mean to find yourself
Feeling uncertainty when
It happens
You find yourself fumbling
At the end of a rope.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
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