Tuesday, February 14, 2012

It Came in the Night

The dishes will toast.
The dust bunnies will mingle.
The socks will eat their young.
The beds will make whoopie.
The laundry will pucker.
The vacuum will sulk.
Let them.
The words are hungry.

10 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. i'd run one of those merry maids services down by foot if i thought they would work for poems.

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  2. That's why my socks keep vanishing...

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  3. So I discovered your blog today, via a search for more information on Bookbaby, and I have enjoyed it immensely. I noticed you are in the Portland area, and as I will be relocating to that area soon I am curious to find other writers/groups in that area, and your writing has encouraged me in this quest. Thank you for your openness in sharing.

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    Replies
    1. openness or foolishness, still trying to figure that one out.

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    2. It can definitely be a toss up. All I can say is, I feel I've benefitted from reading it :)

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  4. The best short poem I've seen for days! Perfect!

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, Tim. Wait 'til I post my poem titled Bulldog in a Zippered Fleece. Waiting for the right picture.

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  5. A nice domestic version of Strand's "Eating Poetry"--I romp with joy in the bookish dark!

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Brave soul to make a comment. Wink.