Saturday, April 25, 2009


The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden

the unrequited eyes
        of the brown-eyed barista I see in the store
small fortunes
        so stingily shared to scribblers like me
the athlete's flesh
        I had not too many years before
the time
        I wasted on selfish spree

for Read Write Poem: let's get metaphysical