On the most ordinary of outings Between the seasonal specials and the dog food That’s where it happens Crossing off baked beans and then You look up and There is a baby who doesn’t smile back Why would he? The woman with the liver-spotted knuckles and the sardines in her trolley List, tightly clutched Her […]
Set in a line like soldiers firing, The books I love but never read wait For their departure, glaring down at Me from the shelves where dust will soon be Unveiled, leaving silent shadows for Destruction by the softest weapon. I don’t have time to write my own poem about the moving. I’m too busy […]
The Present By Billy Collins Much has been said about being in the present. It’s the place to be, according to the gurus, like the latest club on the downtown scene, but no one, it seems, is able to give you directions. It doesn’t seem desirable or even possible to wake up every morning and […]
Sometimes you’ve got things to worry about and other times you worry even when there’s nothing much to worry about. It doesn’t make much difference in the end. My advice: Stop worrying and write a poem. Worry is a big black bird. It spends its hours on a wire. Waiting. And then at the slightest, […]
I see you, teenage child. With your swagger and secrets. Sticking your flag in new territories. Of course, I’m boring. Show me a mother who isn’t. It’s our gift. To you. A life solidified – a crash mat made of person. Ready for your ungrateful bounce.