Tuesday 2am

I reach for you
with cautious confidence-
the way I stretch a hand out in the dark
toward my bedside table, knowing
it’s there, but not precisely where. And yet, when I startle
myself awake, you, unlike my glass of water,
have wandered off- no doubt in pursuit (or avoidance?)
of your own dreamscape
and I am left
in the still-dark hours
of the morning.


Found text experiment

I’ve been experimenting recently with a particular kind of found-text poetry that I’ve heard called blackout poetry, cross-out poetry, and book page poetry. The idea is to take a page of text and to create a poem by crossing out all the words you don’t want to be in the poem.

Here’s an example using a page from a pieceĀ out of The Sun magazine (Oct. 2013, issue 454) called Already Falling:


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