Two of my poems:
Fools in Love
We didn't start with much. You had a ride;
I had a room. One night became a week,
You driving me to work to save your pride
And I so much in love I couldn't speak.
I played my mandolin, singing the song
I sang on Lisa's porch the night we met--
"Angel from Montgomery"--and all night long
we kept my housemates up with our duet.
We were a silly pair, to think that we
Could build a life. You had two children, one
In diapers. We were broke. My daughter Lee
Was lost. Ten years younger, you should have run.
We were the portrait of improvidence--
And love has blessed us for our lack of sense.
----------------
Financial Analysis
It seems I have the kind of tic
That busied Sigmund Freud,
For once again I've bought a house,
Then joined the unemployed.
He'd claim these walls that shelter me
Must mean my Mother's womb
From which my Father's banned by Death,
That I'm her guilty groom.
But I'm not blind -- no matter how
Engrossingly complex,
Self-knowledge is no substitute
For earning steady checks.
5:42:59 PM 
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