More poetry

I have never cared for the minimalist poetry of William Carlos Williams, and yet, when I am moved to write a poem, the fragile things are rarely more than one sentence long.

Life is, indeed, a mystery.

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"Shell" (a less self-indulgent rework of this poem)

Pressing my ear
to his lips
I imagined oceans

in the void.

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"My inheritance"

The sum of my inheritance
a pair of oil-stained overalls
a jeep reduced to carapace
with kittens nesting in the wells.