Wednesday, May 27, 2009


At this time I feel I must remind those in the audience that the author does not equal the protagonist of a poem, if there seems to be one. First person perspective is always an illusion.


I'm coming off a love-high
Now, reeling on the rollercoaster
Joys and miseries coming both at once,
Blowing me around in the air -

It's the next day, there's a new
Eye to look in, look through for
Reflections, refracted patterns.
Sometimes you're all dolls, it's
All a game to me. Paper
Carnival, colors whirl like
pinwheels as I wander.

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