My gob.
I need to go.
It's a thrumb in my torso.
Chest, stomach, all of it.
And Frozen 2
Screams "Go into the unknown" behind me.
But holy shit.
I have spent 24 years
Amassing collections
Of shit.
And I'm not certain I want to loose everything
For a job that will let me go like the last one.
It's just me and my cats.
And they need me.
How will I keep a home?
Keep safe?
Keep us safe?
It was easier when I was alone.
When I didnt collect paintings and rare books.
When did I get old?
I used to pick up and go
Every year.
I was a nomad.
But I put down roots
And found out
Maybe it's not for me.
DU LIEST GERADE
A Year In Poetry
PoesieHappy 2020! I will be putting one whole year of poems in this book. We'll all see what happens! A lot of the poetry I write is to help me understand the world around me. One day it might be a love poem, the next it might be about chicken nuggets. Fo...
