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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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