Monday, January 01, 2018

Jan 1st



For decades, the debris
of bored, unmoored hope.
Ordered: a brace of fullness.
Fulfilled: bits of loneliness.

Now there are these loves
for thousands of stories or
prayers. I never surrender/
care for myself this way


_

No comments:

Spring incantation

oh, these needles of rain  the skies are full of surprises my only choice of speech is a quiet, topographical melody  for I bring us to fors...