“Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” – Carl Sandburg
Being pretty is one thing.
You taught me the difference between childish and childlike.
Some things are just too big / for me to understand.
"The First Year of Tinnitus," "Poem Carrying a Line from Yeats in its Six Teeth" and "Five Arguments with Czeslaw about 'Self-Image.'"
to answer / your question, those with a legitimate / worry should avoid petting zoos and farms
Because no one could gather, we gathered in the residue of pixels.
but please don’t think my body is forgotten. or that the room is gone.
This is a very fat poem
That Sunday dress drifts / in peaceful, paisley grace / towards the kitchen.
All stories are her. The paintings: Carravaggio, Rubens. Even poets gagged her in black.