TRUTH Vigilante: Ew, Icky. How Gross?

I Forget

Memory like snow
each puff on an angle away
no time to drift or float
like riddles from spring sky
unloaded from deft clouds
         destroyed before I can personify
mourn each death to pavement
to each laced in with collected white
but hope for the few resting
in crooks and branches
of bare crab trees or laying upon
green bows of pine

I hear gales, gust whips
when snow flung near a startled Robin
Good luck with that nest…
Wish I could rest
Monologuing alone about something
I forget


3.12.23
3.28.23

A book is coming…I keep telling myself…as all kinds of arbitrary deadlines near & pass…like blaring traffic. So, there’s that.