INSPIRATION

sometimes inspiration strikes me
when in bed then things get worse
I will spring up grab a pen
and quickly go from bed to verse

OUR WAR

I cannot bring myself to mad
and so protest in only words
how we’ve got it mainly backwards
beating plowshares into swords

DEATH

is that final darkness not even darkness
or is it maybe the womb of a new birth
'when I was a grownup I used to have a motorcycle'
says my 4-year old grandson

a cold wind pushes patches of march by the window
while
cocooned and warm
I sit here inside at my keyboard
struggling with nouns and verbs
trying to put myself in this reality
or at least
one of my own choosing
I get up and turn off the lights