There are the fronds again Flimsy green knives Commanded by the wind . . . Or do they know how … More
Tag: original
dreams
dreams like a little bowl of pretzels tiny twisted salt on toast one and another up and over the little … More
a metaphor for what corrupted media tells you
something there Dark in the darkness drags me in surrounded punching the air sure something’s there when the light finally … More
no place in mind
cars rushing lights waiting going waiting sighs planes roaring wings going going going high brains voicing sounds greeting moving hi … More
open books strewn about about little things a bout of little things clashing atomic bigger thing Big Bang beginning little … More
closest coldest distant world
you’re the moon ghost pale skin smooth cold craters for bruises forgotten at day played at night dancing round and … More
peelings of poetry
eraser strands strewed all about my desk like peelings of a scab blood I seek syrup of honesty to pour … More
