לא התכוונתי לכתוב שיר למרות העיפרון שבידי הוא ברח לי בין האצבעות כמו דיו

לא שהייתי צריכה לומר: למומחה שהפשיל את אימי למציל שהצמיד זקפתו לגבי לרופא שפקע את מימיי ולפי, אוי, פי כמה לא הייתי צריכה לומר   (תוצאה של סדנת כתיבה של אגי משעול, 10.5.18)

I come from a city of sky-scrapers Buildings so elevated, they seem to graze the clouds And ironically, block out the sun on some days And sometimes, driving around that bend on Lake Shore Feel like a architectural metaphor We busy ourselves, building all these beautiful infrastructures Just to wake up one day and realize that these walls we built ...

     Hold fast to dreams  For if dreams die  Life is a broken-winged bird  That cannot fly   Hold fast to dreams  For when dreams go  Life is a barren field  Frozen with snow   Langston Hughs    

Spelling   By Margaret Atwood     My daughter plays on the floor  with plastic letters,  red, blue & hard yellow,  learning how to spell,  spelling,  how to make spells.  I wonder how many women  denied themselves daughters,  closed themselves in rooms,  drew the curtains  so they could mainline words.  A child is not a poem,  a poem is not ...

Ode to a Moose   Moose, don’t let me get lost in the matrices of your antlers.  They are hard and solid and beautiful.  Don’t let me get lost in these rock moonbeams. I follow you too closely and forget my own two-legged self.   Moose, I want to ride on your back and dress you in wings so that ...