What’s in My Poems
Strange things, like an old bicycle. Country
things, dilapidated barns, cows, kerosene lanterns.
Some mountains also. A disposition for being compassionate.
Thrift store hand-me-downs , exotic
castoffs. Room for hand-tied flies, and for
Oregon.. Grounds to jail me or sanctify.
Fragments and hints that never connect
the dots. Calculated confusion , the kind
that befuddles. Gaps in credibility.
Thunderous blunders. Evenings that weep over
an unnecessary war. Ideas you know exist
but you can't find them. A person’s fantastical
dreams, probably mine.
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