Excerpts from Poetry by Lynette Fromme
From "An Autobiographical Fantasy in the Checkered Pajamas (subsufficient subtitle)" (1965/66)
Down the space caged me there!
The succulent Red I could not touch.
But up? Jump-flop-grasp the air!
Pull myself out of dry stale grey?
From "Dylan" (1966)
Why would he ever try to hide his curly beauty
under a raw, runny nose,
Or escape into the now of a strange
(some blooming, some withering)
Was he undiscerning-worm-slithering
Across an apathetic age of only himself?
From "Debut" (1966)
You star in traumas,
Yet how soon you forget these things
when some new something you are eyeing.
From "Jury" (1970)
If you stand for it, you are a part of it.
If you let them do it, then it shall be done to you also.