Don’t fear the poem.
Baby take my hand.
We’ll be able to fly.
Don’t fear the poem.
La la la la la la la . . .
Apologies to Blue Oyster Cult. When I tell people I am a poet,
A. They run screaming far to uninhabited lands.
B. They want to share their own poems with me.
C. They make a hand gesture to ward off evil.
D. They stare blankly and then change the subject. Continue reading “Don’t Fear the Poem”




![PerilsOfPaulineTiedToRailwayTracks[4]](https://rompoetry.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/perilsofpaulinetiedtorailwaytracks4.jpg?w=300&h=206)