A poem isn't selfish. It speaks to people.

A Coy Aversion...a fluttertoo shyto be seen...

Have they known scorn like youFive cellars down?

and love is a word usedtoo much andmuchtoo soon.

she wasn't veryinterestingbut few peopleare.

It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.

The stars will live for me, if not anything else

Phantoms of thought and memory thinned and fled.

As long as music survives, poetry will never die.

cherry reddenim tornholding closethe smell of warm

I walk with a dual longing for life and for death.

Write it as easy as you think about the difficulty

The Scorpion?The Grasshopper?Which way will she go?

Imperfection is my ticket, perfection is my pursuit

egret is mostly caused by not havingdone anything.