May 2026 Poetry

At 68 My outsidemaintains a certain Boho roughness, frayed lace,dinged beads, mismatched features drifting. Beneath—birds of paradise, open-mouthed, greedy.Orchids trembling, insects winged and bumping. I try to keep all that’s inside, inside.Let what’s still pulsing, pulse. What’s scrawling, scrawl. I don’t wish to be young again; all that cheap ramen.But voila, if I was twenty, […]