You can’t write good til
you’ve written a lot of poems
Here are the bad ones
You and Me Out on a Walk
It’s morning again, sun.
Let’s be good together.
Old Habits, Like Anxiety
Is there a way
of getting past
my suffering,
the way I put
into my past
old faiths?
How Are You, Coronavirus?
I have stalled and stalled
but I keep catching up
with myself.
It is time to sit still
in my own arms
and ask myself
about us.
Coming
We aren’t under the
tornado warning,
at least not officially,
but I can hear the sirens
from a long way off.
Like any whistle blown
in advance of a train.
The protests sound
out loud and clear:
Pay Attention.
Put down what
you were doing.
Look,
Black lives matter.
Now, what
you do with
your one life matters.
Where will you stand,
in the old weather
circling back around?
