With Slippers On His Feet
And A Cup Of Herbal Tea
I write poems to hold the demons at bay.
I write poems to quiet the eternity of ping-pong balls
that bounce off the walls of my mind.
I write poems to better understand
the tongue that greets you.
I write poems because it gets me stoned.
I write poems because I can’t bear to think
of living in the skin of one who doesn’t.
I write poems so God can read them
on a wintry Sunday by the fire.
2 Replies to “With Slippers on His Feet and a Cup of Herbal Tea”
I tried to push the like button. I promise. I do like this.
An oldie but a goodie, and I like it too. This is from those beautiful days when I’d just keep to myself–mostly high no doubt–and just life the life of the mind. Most of that was probably my first three years at State. I did pretty well with the bottle those years and wrote a crap-ton of verse high. WhT days.