Tuesday, March 20, 2012


I’m a thinker.
I put words together,
links and seams,
daydream, fantasize,
write down my dreams,
live in my head,
purposely absent-minded,
perfectly lagging,
solitary, literary, mad.

So this is the vernal equinox,
a day so balanced that eggs
will stand on end, and I am
tipped so far over that I can
see the world between my legs.
But now I’m really mad.

I see that I cannot be only the chronicler,
the girl with the stories in her pockets,
the researcher, note taker, fool.
I can’t be the one who reads and thinks
and lets the world wallow and sink.


Check out the many fine poets slinging words around at http://dversepoets.com/