Brown Hair and Grey Matter, Metaphorically Speaking

That shock of curly locks adorning 

Your forehead aside, it’s abundantly clear 

That esoteric space between your ears 

Still remains empty for lack of ideas to fill it. 

 

But don’t take my word for it— 

 

How long ago was it when 

The poem you so much wanted 

To write (but never did) turned 

Your hair white overnight? 

 

 

 

 

Valentine's Day Sleeping Muse

--for Eleni, everyday

 

The love of your life looks

To be dreaming again, breathing

Softly next to you, be gentle—

Wake her only

To show her how

Truly she is.

 

 

 

 

 

There, There Now, Brothers Jekyll and Hyde

Where there was always

 

Caged somewhere upright 

Out there, and which was where 

Those precious promissory 

Notes (you mistakenly thought you had 

Dispatched to your other self) ended 

Upended within

 

There.

 

Brainwashed

Take heart all you diehard versifiers— 

Putting down a poem in your head’s not hard, 

Flushing it out of your system is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where There's A Will

Begin a poem 

To be or not to be and more 

 

Than likely you’ll end up never 

Knowing who not to be.