It's Been Awhile Since I Wrote Poetry.

I was going through a box looking for something else, and I found a printed paper with 15 of my old poems (1999) on it. Here are a couple of the better ones.

The Day You Fell
The sweetness of your breath
Still tasting of Scope
And orange juice,
Whispering of summers
When dandelions
Were still for wishing
And fairies still lived
Under the white porch,
And the day you fell
Out of the mapel tree,
Not so huge today as then,
But still a monster
To crowd your sleep.
You lean in close,
To hide your face in mine
As memories slip out
That you thought
Were safely tucked under the bed.
Don't look too close.
But I can see the summer yard,
The pealing paint on the porch,
The smell of dirt and grass,
And the scope and orange juice
In your mouth.
I can also see the monsters
Under your bed.


Lazy and a Little More Than Just Confused
I can see the simple depth of the sky,
And the yellow and green sunset.
Visible.
Easy to understand.
Easy to turn your head and forget.

I don't want to forget.
I want to see it
When I close my eyes,
And understand it
When I can't understand
Anything else.

I want to open my mouth,
And let the light drift in,
To taste the infant sun of spring.