Things He Can Do Which I Can’t

He can make a knife out of cardboard and a clothespin.
With wood scraps he can build a death-ray gun.
A banana is a telephone.
The floor is burning hot lava. The furniture, islands.
He can swim in a bathtub.
With one paper and three pens he can fight a whole war.
He can sleep when there is no money.
He can cuddle in a lap to make everything right
and, you know? I think it is.


About the Poet:  Joe Cottonwood has worked in one building trade or another – carpenter, plumber, electrician – since 1976. Nights, he writes. He lives with his high school sweetheart in La Honda, California, where they built a house and raised a family under (and at mercy of) giant redwood trees. More at


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