Wednesday, December 4, 2013


I decided I need a place to put things, a place to display creations without fear of consequence.  No one will ever see anything I create if I don't get over this fear of looking stupid.  So my poem a day habit might finally have a place here.  And if no one reads it, that's just the same as if I kept it to myself anyway.  And if people read it and have nothing to say, same deal.

I don't know what the purpose of this place is any more.  I'm trying to find one.

12.4  Ration

This late March mist
of melted snow
clings to trees and glass
and falls like wasted soldiers
three months early
for that meal they needed
in order to survive
another day in the trenches.



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