The Books on the Fridge

A well-kept bike, a stack of poems in disarray.

The books on the fridge. I'll get to them soon. After a walk and a few   
More months of procrastinating. I’ll write poems too. Small ones, by   
An open window. The moon like a dog licking a plate. 

Don’t know left from right. 

A group of dusk is called a vanish. 

The arteries of stars
Do they feel it too,

The quiet celebrity of being alone?

9 thoughts on “The Books on the Fridge

    1. Thank you. For me, knowing when to stop revising has always been tricky. When I first started writing, and thought I was Jack Kerouac, it was easy, I bought into his first draft, no corrections philosophy, so I didn’t need to revise. But looking back at those earliest poems, yikes, they certainly needed editing! I’m glad you liked this poem.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Haha I know what you mean. Sometimes I look back at old pieces of writing and think, “How embarrassing!” It’s amazing what a few months/years can do for our perspective. Have a great Monday!

        Liked by 1 person

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