My wife grins at me when I say that, but it feels so true to me. I don't write poetry. But apparently, once in a blue moon, a poem falls out of me.
wind blows too cold to stay out
but home blows too loud to stay in
water mutes noises, calms nerves,
turns harsh lights to mystic glowing skyscrapers...
But they're upside down
like the World when you can't go home
sounds both inside and out
then turning in again
fighting and roaring
screaming and pounding
wishing for resignation
to end the battle