Paper is too pale for our sunsets
\ntoo silent for the morning stomp of smiling grandchildren
\ntoo cool for warm grass, or the sunny beach of sand castles
\ntoo clean for pesky spider shit or bottles on the lawn
\nor piling leaves or admiring persistent skirted echinacea<\/p>\n
and words just sit there in rows So can I write this poem? Paper is too pale for our sunsets too silent for the morning stomp of smiling grandchildren too cool for warm grass, or the sunny beach of sand castles too clean for pesky spider shit or bottles on the lawn or … Continue reading
\nunable to define the daily gift of 4 pm
\nthe empathy of we live this together:<\/em>
\nour organ recitals and understandings
\non so many shared tastes
\nexcept my choice of clothes (I’m almost never right).<\/p>\n
\nYou really seem to think so
\nand always have, since I insisted I was Mr. Right.
\nSo here we are
\nstill moaning urgently in the shadows
\nby the yellow brick wall
\nstill wanting to undress each other
\nin spite of the cooling evening
\nthat does not fit on paper.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"