my    well-organized    clutter

Almost every writer I know tapes cartoons, quotes, and other words of wisdom over his/her desk. My writing space is covered with old, yellowy Dilbert and Sally Forth cutouts, and revolving poems or bits of poems, depending on who I've been reading lately and how large their words become. (Well-used words are kind of like those Sea Monkeys that were advertised in the back of Archie comics when I was a kid - put them in something absorbent and they suddenly balloon to twenty times their original size.) Anyway, here's a word chunk I've been chewing on lately:

Eleventh    Day    of    Rain

        Today I might see you in the hall
        at work.

        I could sit by you on the bench
        an inch closer than Americans are
        supposed to.

        Your hand stretched over your book could be playing
        slide guitar.  Shortstop.

        Fingers long as cats.

        I could stop holding my breath.

        How you smell is the place your neck gives onto your shoulder
        where I would like to rest.

        This is the eleventh day of rain in a row
        when the wind off the river pimp-slaps us university whores
        heading to class.

        This might be the very day I see you
        because I've neglected to wash my hair
        and my eyes are dull as texts.

        There might be five minutes.

        We don't have to think

        -- Belle Waring, from her book "Dark Blonde".

Now that I've set a standard for comparison (uh-oh), why not take a look at some of my poetry and other ramblings?

and, in no particular order...

What the Nuns Taught Us:
What They Gave:
Why Smoking Turns an Otherwise Politically Correct Girl On:
Everything but the Details:
Everyday Blasphemies:
Jeremy Weiss, We Love You:
Taking Off:
The Truth About Zella:
Clearing Away:
The Haunting:
You and I at Alcatraz:
Caddy's Song:

Back to the front door...:
Head for the kitchen...:
Links! Links! Links!:
of the