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June 14, 2012


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Poetry who needs it?
It is frills, lace, and other fancy stuff.
Without it literature takes a hit.
Those genteel folk think it rough.
It can give a needed lift.
It can make for emoting.
It can cause a rift.
It can shape and inspire a life.
Who needs it?
Somebody does.

Open, Mike.
Open rye.
Open sesame.
Open sez me.
Hopin' you're open, Mike.
Hoppin to your place, robin.
Wishin and hopin.
Am I open?
Am I blue?
Am I true to you?
No, but I am open.
Open mic!

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I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark

from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman

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This Way Out

by T.P.Winch

Ringfinger was nervous
Pinky terrified
when they learned
that Hand might succumb
to the rule of Thumb.



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