Monday, January 13, 2003
Paradise Motel Comments
Rating: ★4.6
Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room. The President
Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
...
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7/29/2025 1:52:19 AM # 1.0.0
AFRAID To email my poem to Charles Simic, but I do. To watch his eyes examine a bike with broken training wheels kid bleeding from a fall. Too much to fathom. But there in Santa’s red thread under the tree a gift wrapped beauty To: Bob. Angels hover closer. Inside the blue box is Charlie’s gift: a diamond sculpture of his newest poem, Deleted.