I wish I were a poet. I think poetry is the most powerful of the written art forms. I’m so reverential about it I haven’t written any since I was at school.

I know I am not good at it but now I’m at the age where I realise I don’t have forever so I am going to write the odd poem out of various silly impulses because I also lack silliness in my life. If you’re waiting to do something for a similar reason, why wait? Might as well give it a go. Have heart, it’s OK to be bad at things (and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to turn off the extra line gaps in this editor) – viz

Poem #1

I don’t know this

And I don’t know that

I don’t know a cat or

Why is a dog or

How does a frog or

Where is that log?

Is a bog

Good or bad?

Is it coincidence sons is not


Could there be an elephant made out of buns?

I can’t catch time as it runs.

As it runs





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