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| Gary Geniesse | Poetry |
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September 18, 1988
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Hunting the woman of my dreams Last season was dry, or so it seems It is time to retreat to some sort of home Some time to think, to be alone. Time to hang up my short-ranged rifle And go back to the rooms that stifle To perhaps hunt for my self (in a way) I wonder... if I caught my self, would I like my prey? ©1988 James (Gary) Geniesse |
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This page last changed on April 25, 2004. Copyright ©2004, James (Gary) Geniesse |
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