Being Good Felt Like A Heavy Coat,

We All Find Ourselves Involved In Projects Or Activities That Confound Us-when Or Why Did I Say I Would Do This? What Was I Thinking? I Needed A Poem For Myself That Said-pause Longer. Think Again.

It Is Really Hard To Be Lonely Very Long In A World Of Words. Even If You Don't Have Friends Somewhere, You Still Have Language, And It Will Find You And Wrap Its Little Syllables Around You And Suddenly There Will Be A Story To Live In.

The Thousands Small Birds Of January In Their Smooth Soaring Cloud Finding The Trees.

A Poem Is A Cup Of Words Open To The Sky And Wind In A Bucket.

Because Sometimes I Live In A Hurricane Of Words And Not One Of Them Can Save Me.