I really need to learn how to spell mysoginism.

“Excuse me darling,

but they don’t allow pretty ladies

into the library.

It’s far too distracting.”


“Did it ever occur to you

that there are places

where women aren’t allowed

an education, or freedom

for precisely that reason?

Or, at least, did it ever occur to you

that I happen to have mace in my pocket?

Because I do. Do you want to see it?”


Oh, how I would love

to pull a Thoreau, or a Dickinson

and stop talking to anyone

or never leave my house again

except for the garden.


But you will not see me, at least,

at the library alone again.

In a sad way, I guess that’s progress.



This blog is called Private Bad Thoughts

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again

Since, apparently, it bears repeating

If you are my family member, one of my exes

my psychiatrist, or my colleague – if you know me

You are not allowed to read my poetry

And if you do it anyways

You are a creep