Images, abstractions

gossamer and tenuous,

living amidst

neurons and spirit

seeking refuge

in reality.

Contending with

unsuitable materials.

Words, imperfect.

Forced together

forming faulty foundations.

On top of those,

a rickety frame

other supports

coerced into standing

betray the life,

the origin.

A perverse representation.

Mangled images,


I’ve been lying to you,

but I didn’t mean to.

★                    ★                    ★

Clearly, I’ve failed to write (and post) every day during Lent, but I’m still going to keep at it. I have a growing interest in writing poetry. Of course, I want to do this with excellence, but I’m just beginning, so there might be plenty of crap. You’re welcome. As far as good poetry goes, if I don’t know how to write it, then I definitely don’t know how to describe it. So, my confession is  similar to that of Supreme Court justice Potter Stewart, who said, “I’ll know it when I see it.”