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There once was a man who said I’d chased him away, with words of affection spoken in too harsh a tone. This may have been true, or he may have missed something in the translation. I wish I’d loved him so much I’d have missed him when he was gone, or lost or dead and
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I was feeling disconnected from this womanin the knitting group I had joined,she was telling us how often she had “knitted for hours in the car as she was driving”, most recently on a trip she’d made to Ann Arbor. Now, knitting while you are driving was not something I was familiar with; I felt lost in my mind
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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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There once was a woman killed in the woods by a bear she’d caught and trained to dance to songs she’d written for him. The lyrics were slightly strained, but he was most pissed off by the music, for if he was to dance, he wanted to do it to songs of his own. Bears
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Sometimes you want to sharea poem you wrotenot because you want to prove to others or yourself that you’re a poet, not because you want to show how good it is, but because in writing it you found out something about yourself, or someone else, or an incident, something you knew butdidn’t know you knew,until within the poem it was revealed, a
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She was suffocating my soul. The pillow used was made of ice, frozen ice on my lips melted to salt, lingering drops tickling my chin, tasting of sin sparkling, trickling, pinching my nostrils, crackling as it hit and broke my heart open. When done, I peeled it open like a screaming onion that farted and
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My high school teachersaid don’t be so boy crazy.I preyed, to capture somedaythe perfect mate, but I failed.Crazy cat lady, today. Tanka
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After a traffic accident, in which a drunk driver hit a local family’s car, killing the father and injuring the mother and their two children, our village responded with all the help it could, including love and money for the supporting family, friends and the survivors. We tend to think of loss in the immediacy
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That first morning I awokeafter that first night I’d left and sleptaloneI thought your body was stillbesideme, I’d slept so deeply myright armwas dead weight that had takenyour place.Not quite fifty years later, it’s still here, a morecompatible other,resting by my side.
Words from Inside My Head 