there is a woman

there is a woman

i know,

she is trying to find out

who she is

she reads poetry

that she wrote

about herself, 

about places in her imagination

she crys

her children are embarressed

sometimes at the bakersfield grange she will

bring four or five of her latest

to read

 

it happens  while the sunlight passes

through the 19th century windows

of this great  building 

as she reads

that others begin to understand this embarressing womann

for a moment and she is not alone anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

to places in the garden

 slow tears

falling on paper

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

you have a delicate hand, my friend

[...]

. oh, this is absolutely exquisite poetry ...
. amazingly vivid and moving beyond measure ...