Conflicted

This whole "posting something every week even if it's tripe" experiment has really helped. If by help, you mean that I am posting things that under normal circumstances never see the light of day. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's liberating. I jot things down now that I would have let slip quickly between my fingers before. Maybe that's good - maybe not. I kinda feel like some sort of Pro-literary fanatic at times - "Poetry starts at the moment of conception!" Then at the end of the day I've got a cardboard box full of inbred kittens.

All that is to say this: "Here's some more poetry! Awww, look at it - it's polydactyl."

Lost

I need to write something.
Come, help me think.
Can you find the words?
I seem to have lost them.
I was sitting right here!
I haven't moved all day.
Maybe they're caught in my hair
or lying curled in the folds of my skirt.
When I rise to search for them
they will roll under the couch
and next Tuesday my cat will speak eloquently.

southern martyr 1-26-10