380 poem

What else can I say?Have I said it all,in different waysagain and again and again?Were you listening?Must I repeat myselfagain like the Department ofRedundancy Division rehashing?Did you get it the first time?Then why are you expectingthe same result? Are we insane?I can only speak for myself but

The moose at the top of the bookshelf

There’s a moose at the top of my bookshelf,His antlers are touching the ceiling.He always looks warm with his sweater and scarfAnd he sees everything in the room.He never says a word, just surveys the sceneAnd reminds me to look to my whimsey.He doesn’t mind if my poems don’t rhymeAnd forgives when my words areContinue reading “The moose at the top of the bookshelf”