Wednesday, April 29, 2009


i keep strange things,
meaningless to others:

a small red wax leaf
made with pushing 
thumbs at granny's 
dining room table

an unsharpened 
Washington Bullets
pencil with a fat pink eraser

a Spanish Garnacha 
bottle, drained long
ago and now corked 
with a drippy red candle

pictures and postcards
and phrases I liked 
post-its covered in 
passwords and user IDs

doodles I've clipped from
boring-class notebooks 
and taped into others 

words and words
and words and a 

strange oppressive 
guilt for everything I've
never said to your face
and the growing pile 
of things I want to. 

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