What I’m not
Lately
is full of poems
They don’t crowd around
waving, jumping
craving
the scratchy feel of paper
beneath their inky toes
They wandered off
to the Islands, I imagine,
judging by the luggage
I picture them packing
Floral, full of sweetness
and secrets
sunscreen and paperbacks,
I imagine
— and that’s a start
Puff Of Smoke Poems 