Hot morning--

hot morning

sudden silence

the cars' muted rush ceases

wind's breath

warm and moist

and a single brown

feather

barely an inch long

spins and swoops

hanging by an invisible thread

from the still green tree

8/21/01

Gladioli--

gladioli

thick

textured

color

7/4/99

(What? I like gladioli. Say it five times fast...)

I see--

I see

fingers pointing

they point at me

I think

I see

them laughing

at me I think

I want to crawl and hide

but then I find

my shell is shattered

I stand outside

a circle

peering in

but when I look

to flee inside myself

I find

I am an outcast

even

within

2-23-1998

(Ooo, genuine teen angst! See, I had a normal childhood!)

I like--

I like the feel of a pencil

smooth

knobby

gliding scratchily

across the page

5/30/98