Saturday, December 15, 2007


i came, i saw, i scrawled
searching for significance
by clustering consonants and arranging vowels

your words, my words
less a lens than a house of straw
the huff and puff of anxiety a threat to it all

still i work
less out of expectation
than an attempt to avoid waiting

the wolf at the door
the baby cries awake
scratching is the sound i make


Agent B said...

Very nice.

IZenBet said...

why does that poem remind me of spirtual attacks? in the womens group there was a reading of God hearing and understanding our groans...just what comes to mind:)