I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

What is the delicious idiocy of tonight?
wherein I do the opposite of light
sway around the kitchen with sugar
and cream chilled down to the icy bone
of starlight and the freezer door ajar's breath

I sing my teeth no I sink my spirit into
the pacing around the kitchen a 5-foot arc
wherein I rise above pettiness and drink again
and probe for soft melt with my faux silver spoon
this is so good and so sweet i think like a thumb

maybe I saw her
at the laundromat
and just missed her,
I was looking for a change,
while she walked
away.