Poem .5 |
Almost It's 11:30 p.m. I've got decaf coffee, non-dairy creamer and a packetof Sweet & Low. This truck stop on the side of Highway 78, two hundred miles from home, only stays open'til m...
Posted by on Wed, 14 Feb 2007 15:44:00 GMT |
Poem .2 |
Waiting at Gate 9
Tuesday night, 7:15 p.m., and I am waiting
in the terminal at Gate 9. Overhead speakers
blame the flight delays on the weather
theirs, not ours. I sit, while her business t...
Posted by on Tue, 13 Feb 2007 19:44:00 GMT |
Poem .4 |
Planting Season
Potatoes, my son,
always plant potatoes. I watched him
with the fervor of a toddler, watched
his hands, large and dirty, strong with
experience, gentle with optimism. Potatoes
a...
Posted by on Tue, 13 Feb 2007 18:51:00 GMT |
Poem .3 |
Child
Hard ugly white child, always fraid
fraid and shakin when the night come.
Child knows no momma, aint had no
huggin at bedtime, never you mind.
Child layin til the cryin come, shhh
hush...
Posted by on Tue, 13 Feb 2007 18:38:00 GMT |
Poem .1 |
Third Eye Ache
It's like a child's cry for milk,
or a starfish, flung on the beach,
tasting sand instead of sea.
Or the howling of coyotes when
a rabbit slips away, leaving pieces
of its fur behind....
Posted by on Sun, 11 Feb 2007 21:50:00 GMT |
