so what
my eyelid is going spastic.
i sit in knotted anticipation,
pacing and fazed.
heat turns cold and ice is melting
in this soulful (less) scene of unknowing.
veins scream at me while i wait.
and so what if this is a love poem?
if you don't want it, don't read it.
"We're So Effen Cool"
how you pulled me out of my funk
or
saving a period puss
it went like this....
"dear b,
i LOve you.
ty
love, s"
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hhmmm, having been put in the position of "trying" to be clever with the content of this bio, i find myself at a loss. i'm better at the impromptu i believe. anyway, i write "poetry" which my family and friends patronizingly say is fine. however, the professor at our local college, (Bucks County, Pa. Poet Laureate for several years) seemed to have quite a different and less complimentary opinion. (smile).. i write for therapy which is more than any person should expect. it seems to be safer than medication and a lot less expensive.
i'm not an artist, a photographer, a musician, or a math teacher. i do APPRECIATE art, film, music and i like math. (smile).. i travel the highway and i have 13 earrings in my left ear. that's all i can think of that's "clever". |
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