wings

Metaphors in motion

Some say we create our worlds
from memories made long ago
like the clam awash in pounding surf
on a wild and pristine beach
turning into bony jaws and frothy milk,
irritations into pearly teeth --
on to roaring motors quieted down
and car hoods opening,
robots that look like us.

camouflaged

a standout

full house

new day, same posts

silver sky

The poet

is a misfit
disaffecting
those who would disable her
she's trouble
like plato's escaped prisoner
delights in discovery
in seeing
and seeing further
though she may be
blind like homer

and when her faith
wiggles out of its cocoon
into a poem
it sometimes has wings