Thursday, February 15, 2018

The Watched Pot




The Watched Pot
by Timothy Reed

a watched pot never boils
well, I suppose that depends
on who is watching
where, and when

unseen flame keeps bubbles breaking
rising, rising, rising
silent until
the hissing and sputtering raises hell

to the surface
to the ear
to the eye
and the scalding liquid
sloshes and spills over every edge

the pot boils
the pot is always boiling
nowadays

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Shame's Epitaph


Shame's Epitaph
by Timothy Reed


in the garden today
no leaf is sewn
no fur is worn
as we celebrate
embrace
affirm
any and all nakedness

shame itself has died

the trees blush, but it is not fall