Here are a couple of recent poems. I’ve been working on these for a few weeks. Finally they emerge from the murk into some kind of coherence. I hope. Anyway, this is where they present themselves. I will let them speak.
In Town
You clear the fog
with a wave of your hand
brush through the mist while
ghosts take to their heels
you laugh
how pleasant it is
to be recognized
7/20/21
*******
It’s Complicated
very hot very bad very fast my thoughts
break and exhaust the order in which I put them
very hot many red and yellow words
I open my mouth releasing the whoosh! and I
don’t regret a thing but on the contrary
I rejoice when I see my thoughts printed on
his face the same way a plaster wall
becomes a lattice of broken lath and dust:
Set your fingers and do it I say.
I clean my hands with soap and water
They’ve been so daring, and I don’t want to
ruin my beautiful tight cotton dress
so nice and fresh blue this morning
It’s odd that this is what I’m thinking about right now.
7/21/21
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
Thoughts do have their own trajectory. (K)
Yes, once it’s formed, a thought gets a life of its own, which is good in some cases (leading to inspirations) and not so much in others (sad ruminations). But the good thing is, a new thought arises with a chance to direct it in a better way. At least that is the theory, it does take work, doesn’t it?
Yes it does.