Peruvian Nights and Jamaican Days

I consider this to be among my finest poems - it was written circa 1996 in Mr. Bell's Pre-calculus class (in which I got a 'C'):


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'art class'

the girl with the smock
carries muffins of rye
i think theyre for art
why must it be,
for art is beheld, butter

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Many of the rest of them (mostly written 1996-1998), appear here.

Lost forever, apparently, is the poem I wrote about a mysterious pile of goo under the seat of the short bus that ate the buttons off Bennet's Walkman on the way to Canada. You will also not find any of my serious, love-inspired, angry (maybe a few), or nature-mystic-y poems there. I'm just not that open, ok?

-m