on the dock
looking out over the water
dreaming
meandering thoughts
my easy steps across the wood
that when it creaked
told me secrets
little ripples and reveries
coming in
that I’ve forgotten
what did I see in the sailboats
that docked long ago?
where did I go?
that spring day
with my hands in my pocket
in my light jacket
when I was happy
and had nothing much to say
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
