2020 – 088/366 – Small books…

…make strange bedfellows…

…(a mixture of voices)…
…(mixed and mixed up)…
…(from when I and we were young and younger)…
…(and knew so little)…
…(and how now we learn to know even less)…
…(and yet, not to forget)…

Three “Invisible String” poems (after Jim Moore)








I do not like 

polishing the tea pots.
	My face, already 
		grotesque, reflected, distorted 
	even more in their surface.



~



I have nine books

borrowed from the library.
	Still, I am reading the one
		new book of poems
	I found at the thrift store.



~



We don’t know

the length, the breadth,
	the width, the height,  
		and certainly not the depth 
	of our unknowing.



~