As I walk through my garden,
See, thrill with the beauties
of this fabulous Spring.
Then I also

Destiny decides
Don't be deceived
But destiny decides
You nailed me in the head
You short me

From hereon after, there will be laughter.
Life has a habit of making you lose your sense of

Tobacco, liquor, and women are bad for you,
so I’ve quit smoking. Someday, liquor too.

I feel like having a go
At whoever set my lifes path.
You've given me so much hurt
And left in

By the time you had died,
neither you nor your family had learned that Google was a verb.

There

Poems ejecting, reflecting,expelling
from your piercing eyes to my
dreamy, and sleepy

A misty veil drowns the oars
that break the stillness
of morning.
The brightness
of guessed at

I could hear the gentle footsteps upon the stairs/
The creek of wood would give her away/
She

(A short order poem for Kate — age 44
8/16/92)

putting aside the sacred book of words
he parts

To the woman I love
with long blonde hair and a beautiful smile
My love for you
there is

You put me in the strong box.
Yeah I was
But you didn't look further than that.
Scratch more

from the silent skittle of insects unseen
and rushing of rivers in uninterrupted streams

- is

Poor mans grave, pour out to me if you
would like to.
it's disturbing, with no past to

Time will tell
Nobody knows tomorrow
But time will tell
Until the end you cant tell
The act and

It's one of those love-hate affairs,
a matter of necessity and mutual support.
Sure, bras can be

I write of things unseen,
I twist the lies of the known.
I use the things that do exist
To tempt

Laid out on the floor, my kin trees' branches stretch from window to door.

Linguistically

Today is one of the good days;
I suppose you could call it that.
Since I spent most of it

How do you explain
that a dream can be so bad
and that the thing you crave so much
is sleep

The swirling wind has power
A power greater than I
But this knowledge doesn't frighten me
There

Birch cracks against bare birch
Whipped by the winter wind,
And strangling roots entwine,
Tightly

Am I a fleeting stage?
A quiet name caught in the rain?
--within a book, another page?

Her breathing I feel
though she's miles away from here
fleeting thoughts, ghost images
and

Every night I go outside
Rain pouring
Star above
Horses and cows rustling in the grass
I puff 3

Moonbeams dance
to catch me
in their pale shimmer
and the earth
drums with life
as I

If you are in peace with yourself
You can forgive, and be happy!
Love yourself first before

I cannot
write about
the things
I cannot
write about,
so I guess
there is
nothing
to write

Silence crashes to the ground,
the sounds of sirens wail among the myriad of sales in windows

The cheers in the streets can be heard for miles!
The rejoicing wallets and corporal gullets can be

In the Strand Book Store in the East Village,
we are laughing in the mythology section.
We are

I'm in my bathroom thinking, what do bats do?
It occurred to me, they're vampire shrew.
What do

My river sings her Drowning Song,
it's alluring and it's tempting,
I sometimes want to go

I woke up today wondering why everything hurts/
I took the road never traveled /
I happen to be

Words nor feelings ever come,
Tears not a single one.

That troubles me.

Your memory hasn't

I can be fat
and fabulous
in my own backyard.
Don't like it?
Then don't look so hard.
I can be

Mixture of madness,
of fury and heartbreak.
No God to turn to.

27 December 2014.
Michelle

Poetry.

A Saturday in which children refuse to sit still because then they will appear to be

The unicorn's mother was a virgin
and he longed to return to the womb.
An untouched, desirable

Sitting in my own Black Chair
Sunlight streaming thru the dusty office windows
Particles of past

midday heat
the water song
of magpies

I am a blank page,

well not so blank anymore,

anyone who saw it would tell you

it looks

The collar dove is a shrunken vulture.

Winter neuralgia hooks his hunched neck
on the skeleton

Personal Statement is your chance to get well-paid job in the company of your dream. It`s the most

Before the feathers of rain came
I lifted the heads from tired
daisies and cut the points

Composing a decent paper implies more than simply passing on your thoughts yet you need to do it in

Beach stroll__
each footprint
stolen by the waves

Buried sadness, loneliness,and being angry
Back to real happy, forgiving, smiling face.
Darkness