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« I Turn In This Season Toward Winter | Main | june 6, the last spring,
first summer day this year »

journals, notebooks, diaries, poems

laying the mind out
on a white sheet
sometimes in modest bedclothes

sometimes naked
flabby and flatulent
sometimes in a dark shroud

look at it there
pennies on the eyes
breasts nuzzling the armpits

waiting to be washed

 

Posted by SB in Poems |

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Categories

MORE OF SB's POEMS

@WATERMARK |A Poet's Notebook


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  • Disclaimer

    Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.

    In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.

    It is likely to be -- it is best if it is -- a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.

    A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think -- but it is not necessarily biographical.


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The Page

IBPC: Poetry and Poets in Rags


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