Alice

She lay in her bed

Bunched in yellow skin

Yelling, “Ma, I got to go!”

My grandmother weak

Of mind vowed

Twenty-five years ago

To take her into every

Condition, apartment

Life like no poverty

Known in our dimming

Past as California receeded

Into nothingness, rough

Into more than we

Could bare, mire left alone

In our thirst for homeland,

Alice could not know walking

Set daily into non-motion

Legs bunched into brief

Wisdom without intellegence

She did not read, but my brother

And I drove her over edge of night.

Published by elgwyn

I was a University and community college instructor. I am an ordinary man writing for artistic reasons, and simple taste-- blogs are an answer to high priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to print his 1000 paper books himself because in 1855 poetry did not sell. It does not sell now unless you have a Pulitzer Prize, and even then, the poet usually makes a living in other ways than poetry. In all ages there have been writers writing out of their own reasons. I am an older man with fewer computer skills than my daughter. Blogs let me reach an audience missed by books, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience. My two self-published books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude, Charles E Taylor, MFA, Xlibris.com and a third coming out sometime next year, through The Book Patch: For Patty Brown... satisfy needs to hold books, and, yet, still read as electronic books which are easier to produce than paper books. The blog allowed me to write a compendium of my writing. I can combine composition with production. Wordpress provides word processing with production. When the writer finishes writing they press publish and then a finished piece. I’m happy to present to you a slice of my personal writing. Do enjoy what you read!

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