Tentative Poet

You taste the meat before me
Feel the medium-rare texture of
The steak, its juices oozing
...

He's sure deep within
As sure as if it were
Stabbing his insides
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Instead of sitting under
the Tree of Life,
contemplating its meaning,
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Thawing my reluctance
Melting down my insecurity

Till fear gathers
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the pale sky cries.
yes, it cries the cry of birds

lost their way,
...

It is certainly not a crime
If your poems do not rhyme
As a matter of fact it's now thought
It may be better if they not
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Living happily ever after became such a chore.
Their faces stiffened from all that smiling.
Gray clouds chased away blue skies, and
It rained so often they couldn't take walks
...

Because he would be horrified
If he found himself inside one
He is such a serious fellow
He discusses the state of the world
...

the trees outside my window
know my name

their leaves whisper secrets only rains know
...

my true name is latebloomer:

i never strike when the iron's hot
or catch the early worms
...

Why does she look like that,
My daughter asked at a dinner,

She meant the old lady who sat in a wheelchair,
...

like fallen petals
strewn over weeping loam
scattered ashes

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