Various and Sundry Poetry


there are too many glimpses of the breakage.
life fissuring into sand.
this feeling like
each day could bring such
shearing, cataclysmic grief.

all I know
is the tightrope I am walking.
i have been spared yet again,
some glitch in the system
buying me more time.

of course, it is so hard to keep aloft
on such an island.
my body has to make such a ludicrous swivel
to turn into safe harbor.

no wonder
after a night’s jubilant sex
with my crotch in a shimmy
and the whole room sweating
why, afterward,
i cannot stop myself
from weeping.