Chelsea May by Jim Carrol

​A pair of frozen dice come

Tumbling through picture windows

The sun slips out and

She is standing at the gate

With all her possibilities 
I conceal so much

Moving in and out poetry

I could have simply left a note

Tell you how I hate

Getting up each morning and

Drink coffee, feel unsightly sick and…
What Coleridge couldn’t admit, well,

DeQuincy, he cashed in on it.
Do you see,

                         Chelsea May?
It’s just a feeling I have at times

I want to live until I want to die

And I don’t want their cures

No matter what I say

My mind is shot into storms

And she’s standing at the gate etc…

-Chelsea May-