Torn and greasy paper tucked inside a children’s book.
1993
I have jettisoned now orbiting the moon.
Means absolutely nothing to most.
If you find a Spanish dictionary and peek into it’s pages you might find
A receipt with chicken scratches on the backside
2008
Walking in stark sunlight the monster and me.
Pieces of me between pages, on the shelves.
Some might say left to the wayside.
Like a bread crumb trail
Coming upon them reminds me in jolts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem, it's different. Can identify, because I used to write on receipts, scraps of paper, napkins, etc. Nowadays, I write everything in blank books - it's easier to keep track of. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn