Stuff I've written, and stuff by others that I've liked enough to type in.
Manners
Sit, she said. The wolf sat. Shake, she said. He held his face and tail still and shook everything in between. His fur stood out in all directions. Sparks flew. Dear sister, she wrote. His yellow eyes followed the words discreetly. I have imagined a wolf. He smells bad. He pants, and his long tongue drips on to the rug, my favorite rug. It has arrows and urns and diamonds on it. The wolf sits where I've stared all morning hoping for a heron: statuesque, aloof, enigmatic. Be that way, the wolf said. There are other poets.
Well, that one was by Pam Alexander. These are by me. They are in approximately chronological order.
Poems I typed in during college, before everything was online. I still love them all, so I'm keeping them.
Most of these are short-shorts, because that's what I do best.