My Life as a Word Junkie

My Life as a Word Junkie


I search them out, put them

on lists, hoard them for myself

I secret them away on scraps of

paper and keep them in rows in

the depths of old journals.

I snatch them from the pages

of books and catch them as they

tumble from the mouths of friends

and strangers. I hum them to myself

even when there is no music. I seek

their meanings in a tattered dictionary

and find their relatives between the covers

of a thesaurus. They comfort me

in the middle of the night and sooth

me during storms. Each one is unique,

perfect as it is, and sometimes I string

them together into poems.

The Howling Moon

The Howling Moon


Clear winter night, no clouds,

perfect for watching the full moon rise.

It’s called the Wolf Moon.

I can see my breath, suspended in air, and

wonder about that name. Do you think

this cold winter moon howls for the many

who shiver tonight?