poem #14

Am I going crazy? is something I ask myself a lot lately. I don’t believe in prophecies except in fiction and this is no story. It is real as I pinch my forearm and focus on breathing in and breathing out. This déjà vu, which (I feel almost certain) I’ve dreamt before, is scarier than…

poem #13

I should like it here more than I do right now green soaked everything roses, blueberries, pears and fish, art on every block. But give me the deep sand, ocean for miles North and South, a coffee shop with construction overhead, homeless women who kiss you on the shoulder, concrete yards, flower people all done…