Friday, July 28, 2006


cardboard boxes could never hold me tighter in
each move a closer step to something which i am
not quite aware of
as of yet
all this so called 'stuff' i 'stuff' in my
the limitations there of
limiting me so and yet so reususable
if unpacked
and repacked
but still limited
this so called 'stuff'
i have not seen in months be it so
the bottom of my
yet i find old memories
tucked in left disasters
yesterdays tomorrows
and tomorrows last weeks
old receipts
smiles and toothless grins
wearing paisley prints
and lace and more floral
neatly tucked away
this so called 'stuff' i feel is so
confined in
cardboard boxes could never
define me so


Blogger Third said...

i'm always so happy to see you come back, our Illustrious Foundess! i see Frost come on AIM now and then, but i always go "Naw, he'd never remember who i am..."

i wanted to say that i've always really appreciated your prose, and i think you're fantastic at something that a lot of 'trained' poets only aspire to:
You express yourself beautifully not in spite of linguistically skirting what you really want to say, but beacause you do.

2:29 PM  
Blogger nightsawake jen said...

I am glad this is continuing. I still *still* miss the days of the black/white notebook. This is kind of bringing it back for me. I never see frost on aim because I never use aim anymore :) He might remember you, just mention the old NAP. Hard to forget if you ask me :)
And thanks, btw. I tend to write what is just in my head. It comes out as I think it. I feel it becomes something more that way..and stays more natural.

1:10 PM  

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