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Sunday, February 8, 2004 |
Mysterious Ways
I found her on my porch one night, half stoned,
Black-eyed, and broke. I had a sofa-bed,
And passing out "Will I be safe?" she moaned—
I figured while she snored she wasn't dead.
Next morning came the tale. It was her son
Who'd beat her up and robbed her for cocaine,
And daughter who, not to be outdone,
Had dropped her off with whiskey for her pain.
She wouldn't call the cops, and I got mad.
I didn't see her till the hurricane
Had come and gone and taken all she had:
"My Kenny stole so much from me God swore
He'd send a storm so he can't steal no more."
8:53:16 PM 
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I've added several blogs over on the left, and separated POETRY BLOGS into those devoted almost entirely to original poems (BLOGS OF POEMS) and those which regularly mix in talk about poems and the po-biz (BLOGS ON POETRY). My only criterium for what gets blogrolled in the first place is that, at least some of the time, in one way or another, these are places that help me better understand my own practice as a poet. It's not an exhaustive list because it's exhausting maintaining it.
For those of you mad enough to want to see my almost-daily sonnets in one swell foop (did I really just write that?) I've added a link under ME & MINE to The New Sonnetarium.
BTW: Jim Behrle is 19 years, 362 352 days younger than I am, and I think John Latta is 360 350 days younger. Happy Birthdays, Strangers, from a subtraction-challenged engineer!
12:14:39 PM
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
2006 Michael Snider.
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