a poem is a sermon
The world seems so out of balance.
Perhaps it’s only me and mine.
Sometimes the music for the dance
makes every step a dotted line
with the next motion left to chance.
The world keeps spinning, just the same.
It doesn’t matter if the tune
is out of rhythm. Who’s to blame
when one foot shifts its weight too soon?
It’s just a dance. It’s just a game.
The poets speak of love, and some in tangled words seem lost and mired; for each one that is awestruck dumb or struggles when the words won’t come, a dozen more seem uninspired, and speak of passion secondhand as if its pull they could resist while calmly, at their whim’s command, the muses at their […]
A quarter mile back down the lane paved with loose stone and bits of brick, past three tall trees that still remain after ten years almost the same, though at their bases weeds grow thick, a wood frame house, its paint in peel and tin roof rusted rough and brown still stands, though some would […]