My affection, it grew like a tree
Reaching out words like branches
Chopped & sanded till you swept up the scraps
With a broom of the twigs that fell off.
Seventeen was a year of much learning, all of it outside the classroom. The college library was a gruesome place, with the boys being seated on the ground floor and the girls banished to the mezzanine floor overhead. Itwas like being on a rather volatile Venus that would suddenly be…
Another Monday at the Tuning Fork and how can I possibly hate the week when it starts that way? I’ve been struggling a bit with performance poetry. I now know the difference between performed poetry and spoken word. I can’t entirely articulate it but I can see, hear and feel…
Not a good time. Not a good mood. December always gets me down. Even though the fabulousness of my life must make me seem like a crank for complaining. It’s too many people, too many expectations, too much to consider and keep track of. They say a man (person) is…
