Bloody mess of a
play that has you laughing at
clots of gore and death.
Lieutenant of Inishmore
2
Bloody mess of a
play that has you laughing at
clots of gore and death.
“Meaning glistens.” Or
“meaning listens.” Or perhaps
it’s “meaning lessens.”
I stop posting in
the blogosphere. No one reads
me. Do I exist?
Nothing pleases me.
Time I don’t have to account for.
A blank calendar.
Today was her last
day on a job I said ‘don’t
quit’ two years ago.
Some people like to
cook. Then there’s me who dreads that
thing called dinner hour.
“Have you been writing
your haiku journal?” he asked.
You read. You know ‘no.’
Intention shines high
above like a star I see
and dream of reaching.
The more I write the
more I lose my hold on words
that speak without me.
My fingers talk my
eyes listen my head makes it
up my heart hungers.