Poetry

Dear Fonzie,

When I was a baby poet I wrote lots of things and a very few of them wrote themselves into the rafters of my skull.  One is:

It is in the early  morning 

that I love to hear them scream

for their hearts screech out their wicked lies 

with lips and tongues serene.

Most things I wrote that I couldn't get out of my head I respected for that reason and put them in poems but this seemed like youthful rage and I never did.  I did recently.  But I post this here because it was in my head again.        

Whoa, Aye, Oh yeah

Dear Fonzie,

This clock knocks my socks.

love,

Jenny

sun dial by default

The plants and steel are all very determined.  They get in the picture.  They look proud.  A clock tires and lets down its hands, forever, lets them clatter to the ground.  Then it is a sundial, and finally alone.

Dead Dragon

I love to eat.  I'd have been this fellow's feast.  

Fonzie loves Batman

This is a bat man.  I met him in the Museum of Natural History.  I'm going to post this right away in case something happens.  Like I could die, or have to leave the room.