devils & bargaining

this is the hum of the dryer
house is quiet / late night

in the middle of the kitchen table
laundry / whites / & socks & dish rags
tea towels & tee shirts

not folded / / hot lunch forms filled out
5 of them /

st.ill there is one child home / until
the sweet call of september / & this mother
will be childless / /


soon the days change again / time always a constant
we move away from these days of babes in arms /
& chunky toddlers / wet with drool & pee

the truest smiles of all / laugher for delight
the shrill


of i'm alive / / children don't know the meaning of death
what do you remember before 5 / before 10 / /


somewhere / the fairy tale / angels & what not / other world ly
spirits / / yes / adults lose touch with surreality / become
honest soldiers of the state / pay your taxes / worry about death
& money / / ah yes / the good fight of adult hood









but i wish to be walking in the forest / where the moss grows
bright green in winter / & the orange of dead pine needles glows
orange like the bright of warm sun


that's where i wish to be / some where / i 'm certain as a child
i saw a bit of majik / wished to see the small people / yes i'm certain
i cast a spell once / feint memory




& see the lower back now protests the days exercise
a walk down the mountain / a walk back up again



what fabulous things that we think

imagination boundless / each mind runs in so many directions
who can really know what the truth of any thing is

stick to the truth that wells up in side of you
sharp knot against the inside ribs
press hot against heart / against memory





i'm tired of trying to be a poet
living up to some kind of expectation
i've placed upon my self / / mostly i see my
work as worthless / / an accident on the side of the road
one where a jeep flips over & the little girl inside gets her
head shorn off / / / every one dies / the jeep right side up
against the bridge / / we walked up the high way to see it


but i don't think i would even slow down for my kind of poetry
made to per form / / where is the line / of for get full / / where
is this going / where has this been/ / /


i mean / what is that suppose to mean / i'm a poet
some self important title / oh avant garde you say
well she is a bit odd / / / oh a poet / yes / well then
we've had a few poets in the family / mostly they are a bit odd
tho / don't you think / / i mean / really / who reads poetry / who
listens to poetry / / / who is / what is crazy

i'll tell you / / poetry is crazy / the people who write it are crazy
& i'm crazy too / but i suppose i shouldn't be self proclaiming it
it's kinda like saying i'm a poet / when really in truth / in fact
i really am crazy but don't tell any one / don't let it get out / /

or they will be rolling their eyes @ you too / / / al though i'm inclined
to be lieve / that i didn't set out to be a poet / i set out to find a bit
of pain / that i do believe / / but the rest / well



i'm still not sure how i ended up here / fingers to the keys / / repeat after me
i'm not a poet / & i'm not crazy / & can i get off now / /