Poems

Poem

I am the word juggler.
I juggle the words
like swords.
I slice sense
with poetic license.

Poem

Peter the orange parrot
had a very tiny beak,
unlike the other parrots
he was never heard to speak.
But they were never nasty to him,
Peter the non-talking parrot

Poem

The light through the blind is a poem,

the way it illuminates air.

And the shadows that fall

on the floor and the wall

are signs that a poem is there.