A few poems from the small stone collection this year of mine, from bad to verse.
Four
There is no greater joy on a face
than the anticipation
as the boy prepares
to jump
deep into a puddle.
Two
She covers her eyes and pouts
at the hard truth we've worked so hard to pad
the world is not ordered to her liking.
Thirteen
I know that it is important
today, now, this instant already
But I promise you I promise you
you will not remember
the vitalness of this now
come tomorrow.
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