[POEM] sand 2

fine grained elegance

weightless fractured onyx leaves

subtle impressions


[POEM] sand 1

rocks are combed over

finite calm conditioning

trained maneuvering

[POEM] patience

Pitter titter go the nails,

agitated against the plastic

table top. This is how

I spend my days, head on desk,

exhausted in boredom. Oh, to be

needed! To be a busy bee of

constructive accomplishments.

…everyone needs a purpose…

[POEM] pub

To twang of banjo

and penny whistle squeal,

the belting of an Irish dream.

The drums in rhythm

to the cracking of heals

and clanking of whiskey glasses;

what melody and melancholy

found in this pulsing reel

of Irish sweat and pub smoke.