Things I've Written

Have some short poems while I continue to work on this page:


The moon draws the wild out of my veins,
up to the surface of my skin
where it sits like vapor and makes me
mad, sad, alive like the open spaces.
I become like a hollow sound;
the wind with its ceaseless asking,
the aching in my breast, the wide and sleepless moon.

The Answer

Once there was a little girl,
all black and white and gray.
Her mother brushed her faded curls
and sent her out to play.
Once there was a lullaby,
but no one knew the tune.
It wandered halfway 'round the world
and floated to the moon.
Once there was a dancing shoe
that somehow lost its left.
A right alone can never dance,
and it remained bereft.
Once there was a summer day
without a summer sky;
the little girl, with china face,
looked up and asked it, "why?"
The answer was a dancing shoe
that twirls across the moon
forever, to a lullaby
that hasn't any tune.

You can use this link to return to the Bowl Of Serial home page.