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 in 1983. Why are we all different? Is it because the flowers are so? Is it because the animals are so? Or is it because there is a lesson to learn? It would be so simple to be all of one colour, all of one faith, and all of one point of view. Are…
I had to avoid the computer last week due to a back spasm, so here is last week’s haiku almost a week late. A fly jit jitters Across our truck’s windshield. Does it know I’m here? Originally posted on 52 Haiku
Another teen angst filled poem from my High School years. I carry a great weight upon my shoulders as I walk upon the Road. I ask, “Will not someone help me with my load?” The mountains echo their unanimous reply, “NO.” I ask, “Will not someone take away my load?” The mountains echo their unanimous…
Written Feb. 15, 1991. Feed me I’m hungry Hungry for Knowledge Love Understanding Am I a gaping wound or a black hole? The analogy is moot when compared to my hunger my need my desire Help me I’m drowning drowning in an ocean of famine of frustration of possible ignorance You hold the food that…
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…
This poem was written Feb. 20, 1991. You are most beautiful And my love for you is strong As strong as the stone from which you are made Voluptuous and cold Smooth and hard Your marble curves carefully lovingly made from the images of a dream In the image of The Goddess I made you…
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