Because all experiences are valuable.

Thursday, September 29, 2011


Because my little finger is longest,
I painted it orange.
Small polka-dots,
halos of bitter olive green
around his eyes,
Pastel chalk outlines on the
of dinosaurs and dead bodies.
I listen to stories. I hear storm drains
and cobwebs, she went first...
That's the way I heard it,
but not the way he told it.
Exposing what is childish,
needing more time always
to finish what I started.
I look up to you
in ways you don't see,
somewhat incomparable
to anyone,
star-shaped, and
so often maligned.


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