Mary Primmit
always seems so
ice
so lated
she came and sat
and propped her head
with her chin planted
in her
palm
trees
stand straight
and that is the way
she sat, or stood and
her eyes seemed
to hold something
in
side
to
side they worked
cataloging every jot,
every tittle.
Mary Primmit just left
lookin’ kinda lost.
Brief Case Poems (1973-1979)