Bookstore Poem #457

Written this afternoon at BookTree in Kirkland.

Words leave objects
for me to trip over

The more I write, the more I fall
until I am a living bruise—
purple, black, and sickly yellow

A tender mark
where I used to be
were it not for all the words on the sidewalk

(15 December 2018)


I have books available. Links to more information here. 

Or, if you like, you can use PayPal to donate a buck (or whatever amount you’d like) to help support my efforts by clicking on the button below:

Donate with PayPal