The Truth According to Bigfoot
Are there
two
women
or
a vase
A potter
or
masseur
of clay
A carousel
or
drill
on turn
by horses
All of us
more
than just one
thing. All of us
until
we are dead
All of us
liars. Liars
in love
with
beautiful stories
about
truth
And truth?
It is
something
we might
have seen
Something
walking upright
in the
forest
like a man
unedit 
What I love about you Brit, is I hear a long low moan…but I never hear a complaint
This is a pretty damn accurate description of me. I won’t forget it.
I like the format a lot. Well done.
I appreciate it, Eric. Hope all is well.
So glad I dropped back into this place to gobble up your words – soul sugar.
I don’t have enough money to frame all of your comments.
thank you, poet. I like seeing you around here.
look i’ve accidentally replied three times to one comment. that’s crazy.
this is so FN good…I put your poetry in the carved kauri box in my mind
I really like this.