A new typewriter poem. I wasn’t quite in the right frame of mind for anything to flow very easily—but, a few small edits later, this is what I got.
poetry
Bookstore Poem #273. A small fantasy that undoubtedly reveals a profound misunderstanding of the behavior of atoms
Despite feeling mostly uninspired by much today, I dragged myself down to Third Place Books, and settled in the chair across from the Science section… Continue reading
There is no glass (a poem)
A new typewriter poem. Minimal editing. I don’t know that it’s any good, but it’s honest—which is what I am always striving for…
Disamenity (a poem)
Saturday morning at the typewriter…
On seeing the blue veins in my sunlit arm (a poem)
I haven’t been spending as much time outside as I should, so my forearms in particular are really pale…
Bookstore Poem #272. Some people have fantasies when their mind wanders; this is what happens when my mind wanders
I wrote this during a poetry reading at the Ballard Library… Continue reading
Bookstore Poem #252. Deepest blue
At Third Place Books this afternoon. Svetlana Alexievich’s Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets caught my eye, resulting in this: Continue reading
‘I’m aiming for ninety-five’ (a poem)
Why am I thinking about this first thing in the morning?
Bookstore Poem #247. Inner voices
A short while ago, I overheard an author saying that kids ‘don’t have those inner critical voices’, that they don’t compare their drawings to others and judge themselves. Not so, say I… Continue reading
Sunday morning, Century Salon (a poem)
Bonus round—another long poem from the typewriter (in edited form).
Ordinary Average Thoughts 