Sometimes you think back on a pivotal moment when, regardless of age or circumstance, you had some epiphany about the world. In this case I learned something about how the world viewed art, and about the price of compromising —or not — the truth.
I had no idea I’d be publishing so many ars poetica this month, but here’s another one.
Sometimes a moment in time sticks with you for decades, and this poem pays homage to one of those moments. What’s Missing Now I know very well that great-grandma was missingmuch of one leg. She liked to sit me thereon…
Another COVID pandemic-era poem today. December and the Birth Nine months, and the obvious—we could have brought a new lifeinto the light of day. But thispandemic? Not so easily shuttledaway. Uncontained, germ-y, voracious.In other words, a young teen.Unshaven, because immature.Smart-mouthed…
Today’s poem is a personification of Poetry. Poor poetry, always dealing with strong emotions.
