Alala

One of the truly bizarre wonders if this new digital age is the ability to write blogs while you poop. Now, I'm no Luddite. I love my technology, but I hope that nobody starts a blog for their bowel movements. I refuse to google to see if it already exists. 

I read an interesting article about "scary places" this morning. Deserving of poems probably. Stay tuned, imaginary readers! I will avail you with random words soon. They might even coherent.

Peace, love, and poetry,

K

A poem about things you can't lose.

I am violently silent

around them,

about it,

in the way

a rock wears flat

beneath the caress 

of time and river.

If poetry is cracking

open ribs to lay bare the hidden

I would kindly request reprieve.

Today there are words 

I'm trying to work around my lips

Without so much cracking

"When we were trying"-

And the box of hand me downs

My mother bought for us.