Ok, fine. I jumped on the Mad Men bandwagon. Spent many hours in recent weeks not writing poems of depth, because I just have to catch up on the exploits of Don Draper and the rest of the dysfunctional characters. At least I did check out the Meditations in an Emergency, in an effort to maintain contact with the world of midcentury drama.
Strings of words appeal to me
I don’t know why
An aesthetic appeal, an inebriation or sheer terror
What is a poem? Where is home?
Hide. Seek. Break the Glass.
Old fashioned, she was bitter.
His love, quite conditional.
Make sure the aisle is clear. Pick your poison. Prepare for lift off, on angel wings.