April 15, 2015
the space within a backpack
heavy and overpriced textbooks
cheap ripened bananas,
next to each
They tell a tale of economics and lifestyle…
I go along Coffman Memorial Union,
the pricey disaster
April 14, 2015
April 10, 2015
April 4, 2015
The Easter Bunny
and three days later
he rose again…
with a bunch
April 1, 2015
He sat as we tore him to pieces,
limb by limb; every sentence sound, lost thought, and errant period
became our subject, our purpose to change.
Critical words and suggested alterations sliced deep,
a pain was scribed on his taut winced mien, perspired.
I said nothing more, no more from me.
This was where their sticks and stones became surgical instruments, their say on his say, tools which cut to, with their subjective opines on art, on personality, on poetry.
I sat and said nothing,
until words came, “…any last suggestions?”
Then I spoke: I think your piece is good.
March 31, 2015
Some wrong is right, some right is wrong;
the only matter is who sings the song.
March 24, 2015
A monoculture of plants
in a field
offers a species fading—
a group of homogeneous acts
you get the point.
I must have stepped onto the bus
and forgotten my change.
Can I borrow from you?