Tommy Whisenhunt Poems

Watching clock dials,
And bare bleach walls
I'm treading tiles
Anticipation; i'll play ball
...

Floating in, it's late in the night
She props up, her hair is a fright
Those brilliant gems and that BIG GRINN
There's always a grinn
...

Summertime
Belgian White; nights ardor
It's perfect; refined
And never a bore
...

I transferred through the minerals of the earth
When I arrived they called it a birth
It was with great talent and a bit of girth
Someone whispered and said I had worth
...