Another Saturday Poetry Night:

The only hands you get to take,
belong to your keyboard
The lips you get to kiss,
that of your swollen self-reflectivity
The voice you get to hear,
is your own mind’s

and echoes Within (and Within and Within and Within)

The words you will laugh at yourself for tomorrow morning
seem to be already in the Writing

again.

Another Saturday Poetry Night:
The moon
is in hiding.
The good friends
are in hiding.
The good times
are in hiding.

Another Saturday Poetry Night.
You are in hiding, too
but not hidden quite Well enough

from yourself.