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…
Written the summer of 1984 in reaction to losing my Grandmother. I found out just before leaving for the airport to be an exchange student in England. By the time I returned 9 weeks later, everyone else had had a chance to attend the funeral, find closure and move on. I hadn’t. It took me…
Written in 1985. I’m in a box. I’ve been here a long time. There’s no way out. All eight corners are the same. All six sides have been scrutinized. I stare in hopes that I might see something new. Maybe there are pores with minute creatures living inside. If I look long enough maybe I…
This poem was written in 1983, inspired by my senior ring, which had a blue spinal stone because my favorite color is blue. It was published in the Spring 1984 issue of Metanoia, the Montgomery High School creative writing magazine. Blue Spinal, Spiral me down, down to the depths of your ocean. I see everything…
For this poem, I created a specific syllable structure. It another experiment in structured poetry. It is not based on a real dream. I dreamed I was in a desert, alone. The wind swept dust all about me, but I was safe, in a cone of light and cool wind. Then I was in a…
This poem was written after a very stressful week in January 1998. Sitting on the toilet with my underwear on I wet my pants, but didn’t notice because of all the things that had distracted me from pulling down my knickers in the first place. It wasn’t until I went to wipe that I realized…
