Saturday, August 22

poems about poems

You Look at Me, Your Eyes Say Hide For a While

when I write a poem
I can not show it to you
because it is about you
and I don’t want to scare
you with how I feel

Thisworld Thegiant

This is not being written
in a room full of books
or a room with paper
on the wall
or a public space
where people may
witness these actions

I am in the middle
of a lifetime
that is not full of nostalgia

you are where I write
there is broken glass
here and dinosaurs
that are larger and
overdosed bodies
and badminton

I write in a giant
where I study
tapes of my past
and adapt them
into notes
of what I felt
of where I could of
done better

I pace back and forth
all these things
are happening silently

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