I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.) They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here. Copyright also applies to almost all photos posted here, most of which are my own, though a few are licensed under Creative Commons.
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22 November 2009

Verse Portrait 83: Passing Stranger

‘Frankie don’t dance’
his T-shirt says
and I’m sorry
for anyone who so restricts
his own joy,
so afraid of release
he fends it off
before it starts to begin.

‘If I can’t dance
at the revolution,’
Emma Goldman is said
to have said to Lenin,
‘I won’t come.’
Now that I like!

Me, I ain’t got
rhythm, trip over
my feet, and yet
I love to swirl and tap.


  1. I have a mental image of the domino cascade of all the resulting injuries from someone's flinging and hopping and swinging when they really, are seriously, a bad dancer. lol-hyperbole -- refraining from dancing as consideration for others.

  2. It's OK. I dance alone in my home, with or without a broom.