Some Really Old Poetry

From a journal in 1998

Poem of belonging

Quiet place in my mind

Watching the world go by

Watching them leave with a sigh

Turned away at the gate

Put no coins on the plate

Wore your jammies to your date

Thinking dreams will escape

Through the hole behind your ear

Through the drop of your tear

Endlessly we appear

In the magic mirror

Poem by a cyclist watching cars pass by

driving by in fossil-fueled cages

blessings of rain never wet your hair

arrive home late with your curls still tight

the questions still festering in your soul

It is funny to remember when poems came to me and I befriended them with ink on paper.  I think there was a time when I wanted them to be good; now it is enough to hear their dissonant silly voices echoing.

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