Monday, January 9, 2017


I remember writing poems
Driving my mom's plumsilver Saturn
Building them line by line
Cycling back and repeating the words
Til I could write them down
Downshifting as I approached town
The leaking moonroof,
The mildewed carpets
Air full of words
And a throat/heart swelling with seriousness
Some kind of righteous love that fades faster
Than fabrics left in sunlight