My Life as a Poet
-
I’m afraid these are the best that I can do, unpublished, they aren’t good enough, so I can never claim to be a poet. Not true, but shared feeling among many poets. Read more
-
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post. Read more
-
he left on tiptoe feetcame with noise of laughing friend-voices, bursts of orange-red-yellowsunlight, slap-cracking screen doorsleft once, returned and left andcame back again,muffled in velvet Paisleylike soft confusion,he went.try to tell him, just try,it’s not the leaving that hurts,it’s the continual return,coming back and being had,of sand once white now strewn withentwined arms and legs Read more
Words from Inside My Head 