is something we adopt
a bright idea that comes at the worst possible time
and stays long after its welcome is worn out
like an old pair of garden gloves
with holes in the fingers
comfortable, but they no longer
do the job.
Unable to let them go
try to fix them,
when one surely disappears
you convince yourself that sooner or later it will turn up
and everything will work out, but it never does.
Not until long after
you’ve thrown its mate into the trash
and it’s been hauled away
by that giant yellow truck
reeking of dead fish and stale beer.
It occurs to me That I require an ideal To summit these peaks. Something more than a patch. My tenacity shouts above my perception Shooting ...
Fresh pine scent captures holiday spirit. Santa’s little helpers burn clean fuel. Christmas cheer expires on December 26th. Cards and let...
***A prose poem written in pidgin english Da gross cockroach militia stays booming in da plumbing in da face of mass killings in Kaneohe ...
**This poem was inspired by a T-shirt design—I bought the shirt! I am also trying to convince certain people of the importance of POETR...