introspective array

Twelve Poems                                     

A balloon
is going up
filled with problems.


When I think
of the thought
machines


I whistle
softly
to myself.


*


Self


In my pale
face
is a grim


mask,
but I have
to laugh.


My arm
is a bone —
I


love
it
so.


*


a red
tin pan
of tan
doom


*


Gravity
pulls
me
down


so
hard
I
can


only
say
my
name.


*


"When my head
goes too fast
I get out
and walk."


*


The evil eye
is ridiculous,
but it exists.


*


Personal


I'd like
to keep
myself


out
of this. . .
this. . .


whatever
you
call it.


*


It's too easy
to say
yes,
now—


difficult
to think,
say,
now.


*


I get
the idea
I can die
anytime,
then
I forget
it.


*


When a tree falls
on your head,
it says yes
or no.


*


I walk
you walk
we walk


through
each
other


into
our
selves




               Larry Fagin     (  +  May 2017  )
















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