Poetry By
Bill Lythgoe
Published on: 6/25/2015
Maybe Descartes Got It Wrong
I am therefore I think. I awake therefore I stop dreaming. I have eyes therefore I see. I itch therefore I scratch. God does not exist therefore I don't believe in her. I am a law-abiding citizen who likes to relax therefore I drink alcohol occasionally to excess, whatever that might mean. I am a senior citizen therefore I remember events that never occurred. I am a rational being therefore I notice that the world is run by madmen. I sometimes have doubts about my own sanity therefore I have never consulted a psychiatrist. I am a poet therefore I am aware of the relevance of red wheelbarrows. I am alive therefore I shall witness the dying of the light.
Published on: 6/23/2015
She Haunts My House
She haunts my house, creeps through the door, hesitates, hovers on the stairs before walking through walls, shimmering on ceilings, hiding her scars, showing her feelings. Dead hands in the dark stroke my spine and remind me of the way her fingers would search, and then find me. Last night I saw a strand of her hair curled on the carpet in front of my chair. Fear parts my lips— makes me confess. You killed her, didn't you? I whisper: Yes.
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