: '98 :

reading poetry from '98
i wished
i was one of those forty-somethings
with pensive, poet friends
that visted and spent the night
on days like this

wished i was smart like
them, too
not so much wise
but they know how
to turn a word
into a clue

three poems on a hidden theme
too many on myths
too many on dreams

she said Frost was an amateur
and i laughed from a safe distance
three hours away
from her

but now as i recall his scenes
they're not so different
as those of '98
though there was one
with a fish, a bird, a fox, all
questions: a metaphysical chase

meaning takes on new meaning
when you force it into stanzas
and mention something about time
or the poor human heart
sighing more than beating

your words are better than mine
but no better than '97
just the same as '99