Portfolio

I haven’t written a bad poem in weeks. Nor a good one. Ebb and flow, you know. And the day seems to end shortly after lunch. And it’s ink dark before even a hint of evening appetite. It all makes the cocktail hour murky. Which leads to supplemental consumption and mild depression before dessert. And bad poems approximate a sugar buzz.

All that said, here’s a bevy of eye rhymes catalogued in God only knows fashion.

last legs 4 1xpad.com

sharing marginalia of the moment
with poesy pretensions on parade–
for over a decade

r.douglas & Snz

Doug does Twitter