Sunday, January 18, 2009

Good Morrow

To citizens of the Blinking Veldt.

I wave my hand to show I have no weapons.

Lee is right.

I am "such a girl" sometimes.

But aren't we all.

In Poetryville, I mean.


It beats the lunks they have over in Palookaville.


Even the girls there slug you.


And that's just the flirtation.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

INAUGURAL VALENTINE

As every scientist knows
there are only four loves

in the withering
of a leaf

though they seem to come from everywhere
to meet themselves

as strangers airborne
in the ever-widening gorge of the world

the love of falling
the love of someone

the love of a certain pigment
the love of seeds

only what is free itself
can speak for freedom.

William Keckler said...

Great poem, Peter.

I felt my soul gathered in from the four directions when I read it.

Seriously.

Really beautiful.

Anonymous said...

merci beaucoup, tu m'inspire...