Hail the Strange Ones.
Posted in Words on December 22nd, 2004
Poets are weirdos.
They can’t help it, they just are.
Not for them the bravura strange
Of painters, or stucco bloom
Of eccentric musicians.
Poets are just plain …odd.
Look at them - shuffling thoughts
On scribbled worry scraps
Memento pointing treasure maps
Of found ideas on midnight notes
Squirreled safely away like eels
In the pockets of a hobo.
And then, they speak!