Strange Little Girl

Lost or found Standing still Or always  moving. White picket fences Wide open spaces The iron masked man Stands, watching (strange little girl) Running in circles. Children swing Back and forth Laughing or crying. City parks Shine bright on perfect days. Do you know where When? To jump off the merry-go-round? Strange Little Girl

6 Tings ‘Bout Me

Dis here bloggn’ thang means that I gotta rite someting fer u folks out dere. Eben if me r sic [sic]. Naw, it ain’t in Swed-lang or Swinglish, neider. Deal. Dis here r 6 tings ’bout me. Jus me rita dem der poems, like, fer all me lif. I donno likka tomatoes, raw is icky…

Velvet Tears Run Screaming

My tears screamed to the floor shattered like glass My breath rode the tail of a memory until its being was no more. My lips sought shelter attracted to the light and darkness My eyes close lids gently surrender We sleep. Cold tiles a relief from existence.

What Happened Here?

This poem is inspired by the photo, taken in Brussels a couple of weeks ago. The rose, laying so purposefully, between two tubes of cardboard, made me wonder what happened the night before. Did two lovers just graduate from university and part ways, leaving this legacy behind? Or did young love blossom and they hastily…