Alexander Pope

I love a word that rimes with what it means.

TWO

Is man the least
likely metaphor for
whatever's about to
happen? Those who

don't know any
better tend to
think so while
those who couldn't

care less are
reluctant to venture
an opinion. I
am of two minds:

one for the time being,
one for dreaming.

SOME WORDS

Some words are
in love with the
way they sound.
These words are

famous for shouting
out their names
at funerals and for
wrapping themselves

in echoes that
don't know how
to stop or fade
away gracefully.

These words are
poisonous if swallowed.

FAKE DAYLIGHT

If I'd known
then what you
seem so sure
of now, a thousand

surprises might
have burst out
of hiding into
the fake daylight

of this poem. Giants
shrink to average
size when you shine
the right kind of

of light on what
imagination makes them.

THE ORDINARY

The ordinary comes
in two varieties,
the rough and the
smooth. Both

exhibit a surprising
brilliance when rubbed
the wrong way. The
distance from the

western edge of
the ordinary to the
eastern edge can
only be measured

in units of indifference.
The reason is extraordinary.

THE WORD

I guess there may
have been a word
in the beginning,
one that spoke

volumes. Stones
knew what they
didn't know then,
and a calm voice

spoke calmly about
the nothing that
happens in the
silence of the word.

The word was good,
I guess, though reticent.

GOODBYE

Long after she
is out of sight,
my hand is
waving goodbye.

The umbrella I
opened above
her has given
up trying to close.

I often dream about
dreaming about
her, but change
my mind when

she dies. A daydream
closes its window.