Thursday, November 28, 2013

In Late November

The ivory that is almost grey.
The cool that could pass for cold.

Seven winds delivered in one gust
on the afternoon cut short by dark.

Isn’t the lack of distinction sometimes too much?
And then the craze for being grateful.

Let me go off-script, and 
play the jaded femme fatale.

Except for my book of Kenneth Patchen 
poems, I don’t feel grateful at all.

5 comments:

drew said...

Now that's a refreshing take on Thanksgiving.

(Do I dare say 'thank you' ?)

Anonymous said...

Good poem. Good cause.

johanna

Ron. said...

I'm with you on all of this , Sarah, especially the 1st 2 couplets, which IS where we're at, at the moment.

And while I am a big Patchen man, for me it's more Ferlinghetti & Brautigan.

Kathleen said...

Yes. I'm grateful, but not for the craze.

Tiffany said...

"Seven winds delivered in one gust."

Love this.


Thank you.

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