Falling Things
In an exercise in Carla Funk-Hesketh’s poetry technique class we had to write a cinquain poem based on one by Adelaide Crapsey. I was rather fond of mine.
These be
three falling things:
a pearl ring…charcoal stick…
the flaking wallpaper above
the bed.
Snake Stones 
I like this poem, the picture goes very well with it. The pictures here have a coherency but it isn’t something as yet appearing in your life. Is this how your life will look when you are a library-person-thin?