Univited Poem
Rude poem broke into
my conversation with myself,
not making lots of sense,
used inappropriate words,
things out of context,
whined of its lot—
“damned if it did,
damned if it didn’t”—
swapped things for non-things,
hummed some,
talked so long,
repeating much,
rain began falling.
I heard it in the leaves.
I gave up, gave in to listening,
said to myself, That does make sense.
Small Trek
snowbound
homebound
hidebound
hamstrung
hogtied
in a corner
up a tree
down the river
nosedive
headway
deadmarch
footloose
pointblank
playground
..
by Elanor Ross Taylor
from Poetry Foundation
.