Poem : Woe to the Written Word

Binding wavers and winces when opened,
Pages weeping from its worn cracked center,
Exposing tiny threads holding what,
Remains of its spine to its washed out words,
That were once so bold but now willowy,
Held by these humane hands,
No longer having the backbone to withstand,
All the weighty words it is expected to carry.

Poem : They Don't Answer When I Ring

A doll house with flawless fittings
A miniature imitation of
The residence that houses it

Three dolls are sitting silently
On three separate floors alongside
The heavily curtained windows

Silence violently vibrating
Permeating paper thin walls
A stillness falls around the house

What’s this migrating malady
Spreading between lifeless houses
That makes me walk the other way

The stiff doll house family figures
Identical to their owners
But more alive than I thought