Your life falls open,
Like a suitcase, what
Did you forget to pack?
The shirts rolled into
Neat rows, shoes wrapped
Sweaters, it might be
Colder than you expect.
You've brought one very
Dressy outfit, just in
Case. It's your life and
You are right to dream
Of balls and parties, of
A time when that dress,
Wrinkle-proof can come out
With you to dance the
Night away, let it fall
Where it may, but keep
That bag close in the
Overhead compartment, near
Enough so when your life
Unfurls like a paper fan
You have a carry on, packed
Carefully with what you need
You forgot nothing
Tag Archives: #about
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
Snow days
It hugs the bark, held in a
Mutual embrace, holding
On against all odds, in the
Warmth of melting snow
It drips off balconies, yet
It blankets the rough pane,
Covers the edgy spaces on
This otherwise independent
Tree, in surprising symbiosis
Between snow and tree, the
Trunk stands bearded with
A dash of cushy white, will
The snow hold last another
Day?
Burt’s dad David
1. So often it is the small things,
The little acts or habits a son recalls,
Fondly remembering gestures,
The tilt of the head, or the scrape
Of a spoon on a breakfast plate,
Those were endearing, dear man,
Minute but specific memories of A father beloved and lost,
Watched over with affection, While he cleaned […]
Burt’s dad David
My mother-in-law, Frieda
She waits wearing her jacket with the fur collar,
Perfectly still, perfectly made up, her handbag on her lap,
If she is anxious it doesn’t show
She is as still as a statue, her snow white hair neat and combed
Her legs close together, her skirt pulled down,
Her gloves held loosely, rest on her […]
My mother-in-law, Frieda
Tamara, really 