Poems from the Side of the Filing Cabinet: Two


Come, sister—read us the truth:

who can explore with no strength?


They, on sacred will, persecute

the wanted mind of thy soul pleasure—


then your powerful memory

plants desire as a good seed.


Up, up through some house above

we see and write our promise


that no radiant daughter

will dance in everlasting dark.






(Yeah, I know it’s lame. At least I wrote something—right?)


(I’ve started writing poems when I think I don’t have time for prose. This needs to stop.)


(Crumb. I don’t think I can.)


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Ramble back at me...

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