by Glen Martin Fitch

Take three or five, eleven, seventeen,
or nineteen, twenty-three, or fifty-nine,
each one's unique, content,
complete, serene,
by any known design.
Feel trust, find self,
feel will, find confidence
'gainst fear and doubt and
guilt and being shamed;
the Call, one heart,
a prize, a sense of sense
or face confusion,
lonely, trapped and blamed.
Could mommy's breast or
daddy's praise
import the rush of sex
with birthing's primal force?
Perhaps your puppy lost plus
poopy shorts,
a friend's betrayal
combined might be divorce.
Each life's formula
of mysteries
through time.
Seek out, confront,
accept, combine
what’s prime.


Glen Martin Fitch's picture

Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."

Last updated August 23, 2011