I have expunged so much and so many from my recollection
When they come creeping in, it’s on ghost feet
Sometimes I welcome the newly remembered
Sometimes I dread the associations they bring me
Some memories amuse, others confuse, some
Simply disabuse me of my moral superiority, I
Have not served truth or justice, not […]
Do you remember this?
Category Archives: Complications
On second thought
You've made decisions without
The careful thought you should
Have given to every detail before
Making any decision at all
Should you let second thoughts
Guide you to indecision
Lead you astray away from
The life you're living
Is it too late to change course
Or is every course the right choice
A.I.
May I let the LLM write
My poetry for me. Is that
Ethical. Is that right? Is
It fair? It'll pick my words
For me or edit them. Pick
'em outta the air, or twist
'em and turn them to fit a
Narrative that isn't my own
A short lament
This widow fears going
Broke, becoming enfeebled,
Dying alone. Maybe, even
Being alone. Maybe just
Being sad
Average
The river at its most placid
Is eerily glassy, a flat road,
Unbroken by the rapid whirls
So familiar on normal days.
Are there normal days, are
The days where the eddies
Appear normal, and in what
Way are they so? Is normal
The unquiet moving water,
Running up and down, or so
It seems, or is normal a bar
Too high or too hidebound
Fix it, fix-ins, fixtures
So much madness, crazy
Stuff, so crazy you only
Can call it shit, crazy shit.
Just reach for the sides,
Sweet potatoes, they will
Save you, I like mine with
Out the marshmallows, I
Know, sweeter maybe is
Better, especially now, I
Agree. Pass the brussel
Sprouts, please. There's
A chandelier at the Met
That just makes me feel
Good, feel better. These
Lights go up before the
Curtain does. At the Met.
Cloudy and hazy
Heat makes me crazy, I
See it irks you, too, this
Hazy, heated oppression,
Air thicker than its usual
Transparency, its normal
Appearance, would make
Clear. Clarity is not in the
Air. When it's this hot, it
Envelops you, deep into
Your skin, your pores are
Resistant. Heat is sitting
On the surface, all over
Your body. Hot weather
Let loose, let go. It's hot
It’s time
What are we waiting for?
The bus? A train, the rain
To stop, doors to close,
Doors to open, the light
To change, to fade. We
Wait, and let the time go
Past us, get out of our
Reach. How can we be
Sure which moment is
Our moment? Aren’t we
Just waiting for the now?
Silhouettes
What is it that troubles us
In the darkness of a world
Worshipping the negative,
A reverse image, outlines
Of the positive image we
Have loved to put forth, by
Force, something left in a
Tank of developing fluid,
Chemically enabling the
Vision of light to emerge.
Lightening the corners
Bringing them out of the
Corners, no longer as sad,
Or dangerous or, dare we
Troubling, as darkness
Hints of darkness
The air smells of the overwrought
Pasta she'd made last.night, heavy
Like the fevered pieces of seasoned
Gnocchi, overcooked to a hard and
Unyielding patch. The scent is a mix
Of sweet and exotic, almost nice. It Is an aroma at once pleasant and
Dark. It's clingy like the night that
Awoke her, insistant, incessant, full
Of its own life, yet lurking in corners
