if you want to get anywhere
you’ve got to be pedestrian
facebook affirms the death of conversation
when did man become a public relations firm?
every line uttered is safe seeking approval
desire predicts dissatisfaction
boredom swats away the moth
that achieved metamorphosis
all my versts are wayward
my screen is my maker
water carries its source wherever it goes
a burden—unless it flows
unravel now that knot!
the wheel sings its tune under axles—
how much faster we travel in circles
unearth? who manufactured such a word?
youth must be made fulsome by its excess
to become wine
lips in love become good hips!
err to the side of romance
today I was a noun all alone in the world—
tomorrow I hope to become a verb
raised on wealth—but not much else
I’ll be sad when the mourning ends
if—such inconsequential breath
if there is a problem, it’s indoors
the inchworm knows best what to do next
homes triumph souls
by opening the mouth, there’s a chance at love