Eating the World, Part 2

The park forty years later is still green half the year,
and empty, though its emptiness courses
from indifference rather than vandalism, created
by children no longer running barefoot down a hill.

I had to pass the bully’s house on the way
to the park. The house was patched together
with plywood and the weeds hid snipers
with slingshots and rocks big as my kneecaps. Continue reading

Boy in Poetry Museum

My sister took her grandson Mason for a recent visit to the poetry museum. In the Craig’s List poetry exhibit, he ignored the instructions (I love when people do that–I’m serious) and wrote a poem about a vampire:

Vampire bit
someone
and they
went to
Jesus

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Clock in with Poetry

My sister has opened a shop where she is selling furniture and other stuff that she has repurposed, reinvented, renewed, re . . . okay, I’ll stop with that lovely prefix. She has a shed full of stuff she is working on, and one thing she showed me was an old time card container with the slots that each card goes in that she wanted me to make some homemade cards for.

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