There was a man
who sat at the corner
bus stop.
Beside him was
a paper bag with cups
in it.
Why does he sit
at the corner bus stop
staring?
He is alone,
without a home to go
home to.
What does he see
sitting at the bus stop
alone?
He sees nothing.
There is nothing at all
to see.
Sometimes I feel
like the man at the cor-
ner stop.
Written Feb. 27, 1992. You looked at me as if I was a person as if I was beautiful as if I mattered You, who were to hold my first born and smile but were torn too soon away from life You, who in my mourning were a bright star and a friend now so…
Another poem written during my creative writing special course. My teacher liked it, but now that I read it I know it needs some work. New jeans are nice, but old jeans are better. Old shoes are nice, but new shoes are better. Why do they insist on new jeans and old shoes, When anyone…
This poem was written Feb. 16, 1991. I suddenly had an image of a light purple rose lying on a pillow and created this. One Violet Rose laid upon my pillow as I came waltzing in on a string of a thought a wish My love, Thank you for your kisses Thank you for your…
Written in 1983. Life is: lessons to be learned dreams to be realized adventures to be experienced. The reason is: getting to know experiencing the new realizing the truth. I want to: learn know experience realize. I want, desire, need to grow.
Written July 25, 1987. She sits there eating stick pretzels as if they were cigarettes. She holds them between her pointing and middle finger. She brings them up to her mouth and takes a bite. She rolls the bite teasingly with her tongue as she stares at her imaginary opponent. In her mind she plays…
This is one of my earliest successful speeches. I competed in several High School competitions, often earning a fifth-place certificate. My father helped me with the cadence and rhythm, but the writing and research are all mine. Later, after the Loma Prieta quake (which I got to experience first hand), I updated it and used…
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