Mad Cows
April 9, 2018Poem by Margaret Young
I have a problem with mad anything except in adverb form.
I have a problem with mad anything except in adverb form.
...who sent you a link to her reading in Houston, who wants the name of your publicist....
The heart is a crater, a cardiac whack from an accidental asteroid on its selfish passage.
Younger, the infestation would have been loss drilling through my middle.
Nature is a noisy thing, and mammoths don’t walk lightly.
I notice buds late to their blossoming, a flaw that makes one realize sunlight offers no clues.
So, the unknown unknowns, as a man in a gray suit once enunciated.