INVITATION
My mouth is open to you—
to enter, to clean,
to heal like a wound.
PERCEPTIONS
Mimic—
you dream you’re an original.
Original—
you know you’re just a mimic.
FISH HAIKU
Should I ever drown,
Save this record of my time
Spent out of water.
THE CURSE
The best work’s been written in my head,
Where I have no paper or pen,
And where it seems to thread
Aimless until I remember it again.
Transcribing the words like this—less good.
IN RESPONSE TO
The sign asking,
What would Jesus do?
I prefer to ask,
What would Pontius do?
Then wipe my hands
imperially in the air,
turn, and walk away.
Unpublished Poem
2004-2005
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