MUST BE THE SEASON OF THE WITCH YEAH
The disruption of the seasons changing
again No more languorously laying
in the garden tanning my legs &
dredging up words amidst scantily
clad co-eds pretending to learn
Now it’s chilly my legs a garish yellow
and I am walking the halls of the A.G.O.
alone Except for the bearded tourists
who ask to take my picture & touch my hair
__
Fall 2012
DARKNESS AT THE EDGES
Maybe I can tell you dusk like
Lawren Harris paints it: All teals
gunmetal shadows black peeping
through the cracks Utter stillness
& world receding Chill creeping into bones
__
Fall 2012
TINY DANCER IN MY HAND
Writing is such a sedentary
preoccupation It is glaringly
egotistical too But for you –
my words remain in a dark
bin with a dried up millipede
or 2 If I were a dancer I
would PLIÉ my way out of
here For I am starting to sound
like Dr. Seuss
No doubt I will be pilloried in my lifetime
__
Fall 2012
songanddancegirl... at 4
songanddancegirl 