by 
Living in prose
Concerned with the text of life
As it is written
On the cracked mirrors of bathrooms,
And subway walls,
In the urine of little boys spilling
Their small words in the dirt
The text expands with age
Multi-syllabic disasters and concerns
Death leaving those to mourn in
Loneliness and debt
Where’s the poetry for non-poets?
Is there enough
Life in verse to go around?
Haughty and regal verse rising
Above the mire in art and sophistication
Where’s the verse in death, poverty, and spirits
Haunted and struck by the closed hand of the Father?
The sun and verdant forests
To possess
To scorch and hide the verseless
With nothing but a hideous prose
To read on tragic walls
Life –
As it is written
Gwen's World 
Gwen—you grabbed my heart with “Where’s the poetry for non-poets? Is there enough Life in verse to go around?” This morning I find myself wondering the same thing!!! {and I just noticed your about Gwen—I beg to differ, you don’t talk more than you should! I’d like you to talk more!!” Often you write something, and I literally nod, point at my screen and say out loud ‘yeah! What Gwen said–ThAT’s what I’m trying to say’!}