On Writing

Poem 345 – 9:22pm


the room is a mess with joy & tomorrow afternoon I will organize it
my hands are smoothed by shea hinted with peppermint & rosemary
& I use my fingers to type this poem & pause to scratch my right ear
it is always itchy – the moo-moo I wear is a garden of dragons & tropical flowers
soon I will get into bed & the dog hair will tickle my nostrils & make me sneeze & the beauty I held in the crystal tears sliding down my cheeks will make lakes for dreams & Louis wain’s cats will squeal & jump in prisms of dazzling light that rise with the sun


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Looking forward to sharing the holiday spirit with everyone!

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