Birds
on branches
outside silhouettes
against curtains
drawn
cc: CC ‘23
Category: Poetry
Not a state of mind
at a local tavern
but a play
we’d run
playing touch
on the front lawn
catch the ball
in its shade
cc: CC ‘23
A good time for a reblog
How does the wind keep track of the trillions of leaves it blows the infinite tiny barbs of feather it ruffles in flight the colorful kites strung taut in their journeys, guiding youthful hands the dandelion dander on behalf of a wish on its way to new-found love the many tears on cheeks to account for, to someday dry to whisk away the aromas it wafts, the melodies it lilts the voices it fades, this busy wind cc: CC '22
One learns quickly to wipe away tears before blowing one's nose, but after a while it really doesn't matter cc: CC '23
I sometimes say your name
as a question whispered
Eileen?
And I hear your answer there,
the quiet run of nearby water
cc: CC ‘23
Her poetry reads
like Mass Cards,
but her breasts
bring new life
cc: CC '23
The Sign is such
there is no sign
cc: CC ‘23
Now that she’s gone
I realize how easy to have
picked up the phone
now here alone
no one calls me
cc: CC ‘23
Everywhere grey pavement snakes unlined unmarked darkness settles in cicada calls I knew you when sweet wind blew auburn sent a long kiss along the neck lost in time atop a shoulder one shouldn't have left right? cc: CC '23
Wires run along the road on wooden poles, they travel the rise and the run of the land for miles No houses, trees or shrubs, just an endless plain of black on indigo And a low steady hum arises from somewhere beyond what is seen People talk atop those wires, loved ones near and far, exchange Hope For the new day cc: CC '23
Alphabet City 