Category Archives: Poetry

I’ll have the cane, its tway, & why I sometime sway, & don’t complain, I’ll dry the paint

she peels off layers & selves in thickets, noting a brickbat & which way is quickest

there are fence posts with holes & loop wires, & clippers; slippers pass ‘thru, always to @ more

she’s siren on handle bar in but ‘ ‘ terscotch pleats, I’m too young &  here only bells

peri pteros as if terrace in fact was not, is not a guarden to urn