the shadows of stamped-brass replicas of birds shone dazzlingly on the mesh of porch screen it's morning some Tuesday in time with such fine Monday preceding today when cold air-sun is the order of the day: today I expel newfound rhythm less random inhalation now I exhale, find the time not all can be neither my memories remain a weathered knot I tie loosely about my heathered heart, my ear alert to any call to come love the best is yet to come, Love my eyes peeled nay, pealed - really ringing! whenever I see to say all that soft lips would otherwise touch upon lightly about gentle flutter golden gutter-birds at play astray shadows astride a fine meshed line cc: CC 2020
Category: Poetry
My eyes as they are I now prefer to stay overnight and leave in the beautiful breaking sun of new day cc: CC 2020
I want only good things to happen for you and when those don't I feel really bad so I bear the difference Chagall 2020
despite appearances all is exactly as it seems staid and stale even while nascent cc: CC 2020
my spirit so unlike my hands does not chafe then bleed with repeated washing fall back into the water I let my heart be buoyed delight in the light cc: CC 2020
eternity today is no longer a tale of two mirrors cc: CC
with my inside out, among the lint and pebbly motes that line the frayed seam, there in the dimpled corner of the pocket, lies the forgotten with a contorted wrist and extended fingertip I burrow and I search and I probe and I find among the bunched fabric a hole hope on the rug oddly no dreams leaked those instead tend to seep content unsafe so fragile once back inside the pour I felt I felt I felt cc: CC 2020
all we need now is for fucking extraterrestrials to show up cc: CC 2020
the more I erase the more I push out the non-retractable lead cc: CC 2020
