Ginna spinning delight somewhere between cotton and blonde;
gentle, sweet, complicit in a prom or two,
we shared an assassination, a post-grad fraternity or two,
a sister's indiscretion, respected in cautions both observed.
Love, then hurt turned ruin by an innocent but uncommunicated choice
found to be the basic globe, cartography finite, to explore for my life.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
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And Wacky Am I
And now wacky am I, I thank you, mother, for the days I take no pill; the oak table that folds upon itself, a hinge, a turn, a hidden b...
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Walked past, by your place today, in the neighborhood, you know, scouting poetry at a bum academic show of a score of miserable poets'...
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And now wacky am I, I thank you, mother, for the days I take no pill; the oak table that folds upon itself, a hinge, a turn, a hidden b...
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Here I walk on someone else's path; I follow the curves, I follow the rules, I stay in the lines. I may try to improve the path a bit;...
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