it’s really really hard
to write a poem
that doesn’t sound like
a Hallmark card
so I leave you with this:
a setting sun slices through
the needles of naked trees
three deer turn together
and see me
steam gushes out their nostrils
this gift
drapes over the shoulders
of my spirit-spinning
Christmas eve
yuuuuuuck but when the first ray of sun breaks through everything glistens the first bird song so cheerful and fresh the earth’s fragrance a tea of all it sweetest parts air so crisp and pure it burns
not only do I endlessly scavenge for poetry subjects to scoop up and write about but from another appendage of my brain I’m crafting the same material into skits for Saturday Night Live like dueling t
how comforting the visit of rain on a sleepless night the finger-drumming of drops on the roof of my wakefulness a cold and lonely discourse right above the warm cocoon of my bed and this one speaks t