Archive for October 6, 1992

I am the bear at the back of my closet,
warm and furry.
but nobody knows it.

I am the star cut in the flesh on the back of my hand.

you, however, are a fig-ment
of my imagination, subject to my rules.
and you are whatever I choose to make of you.

you are a grasshopper, or a shiny penny,
or a bunch of balloons third graders let go
with notes attatched to the ribbons.
you are roadkill, or a lonely sock in the trash.

I am the wildest man with this imagination;
the most dangerous with this pen.
I am, most of all, the bear at the back of the closet
whose winking eye has been mistaken for a star
that you use as a night-light.