All Things Confused

A dog with newspaper spots, barking wherever he goes.

Month: August, 2013


Things move without notice

And cannot be found,

On top of a shelf

Or under a bed.

We pace around

Until we find

They were in someplace

We chose ourselves.



The sun was bright,

My squinted eyes could

Not fully see.

And, if in this light,

I was blind, then

What is thought of me?

Should I try to help the world,

Will it wince and leave?

Despite the transience

Of the glow, I

Hope that it’s received.


dog-eared pages are bent

but I love those folds

the distorted words

become ours alone