Friday, July 10, 2009

Things are
as they
sound
how hard
or soft, close
or far
wood
or metal
scream, sigh
breath

07-09
There are no trophies in my trophy room.
There are no prizes in the drawer, certificates
on the wall. All the gold stars
are lost in the sky. There's only

the setting sun burnishing the bay
and the cold shadows coming
to meet it.

12/07