Tag: Poetry 1

• October 7, 2021

  Slight Tears

  The slightest tear can ruin fabric. Even as a child I had such a habit, Outworn soles, ripped jeans, worn shirts; The slightest tear makes dimes a penny’s worth. Everyone always tells me so! Even now they point their fingers and make jest, When there is a stitched patch, or a holed vest. The slightest…
• October 5, 2021

  Prisoner to the Road

  I have become prisoner to the road.   It unwinds and turns into groves and onto lanes. It is this road that tells me stop and when to go. Stop! Stop! Now go! God damn it go! The people behind me will make quick the fact. Still it is me who drives, my wrists cuffed to…