pretty girl moves a room

she notices
the men who
turn their heads
just in time

the ones who look
but don’t want
to be obvious

trying to be
cool
but she
catches them
anyway

often sees
heads moving
to the left
or right

as if
they were
only observing
the room

the one
they’ve been
sitting in
for hours now

funny
how that
keeps happening

(D. James)

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better get to it

waiting
for the keys
to speak

why don’t they
type something

must I do
everything
around here

I thought
this writing thing
would be easier

people talk about
poems that write
themselves

where can I
get me
one of those

they promised
life would be
more fun
on a Mac

but I still
have to do
all the damn thinking

(D. James)

life bends

autumn …
things begin
to die

the start
before the start
of next spring

the end
of this
the beginning
of that

life
is
a
circle

a cycle,
there are
no straight lines

which may be why
it feels as if
we’ve been here before

(D. James)