Autobiographical

My full-length book, Where We Think It Should Go, can be yours via Octopus Books, Small Press Distribution, or Amazon. We better celebrate these hard copies while we can. When I'm not writing poetry, I teach amazing young people who are blind. I believe in a healthier future.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

A Child

It fell from the tree.
Fell in my mouth.
I chewed it; it was a dry leaf.

I rested by the sprinkler head.
It fell on my arm,
was a mossy limb,

circulated bugs.
It was a cloudy stream
with rock parts. Sweet tea

and bourbon jar.
Sleeping off. Sun’s far
but the shade tree

but the light’s much.
Strong
above the tree.

2 comments:

Lily said...

I like your rhymes...

Claire said...

Thanks Lily! I hadn't noticed their extent. I mean, "What's with the rhymes?" Seriously!