The dusky chill
tickles my bare arms,
nips playfully at my finger-tips
and blearily
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1 min
The dusky chill
tickles my bare arms,
nips playfully at my finger-tips
and blearily
... [+]
The season of new beginnings.
Spring gets too much credit for new life.
The truth (that only a
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It was somewhere in Idaho
scrubby, stinking
And night settled in like fog about the
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Soft silk sheets slip from my skin.
It’s morning.
It’s mildly unpleasant the way
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There’s a river churning in her heart,
Carried with a surge of pain
There’s a rive
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Tarragon seedling
Slantways
Giant marconis
Face the sun
How can I show you!?
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My grandson’s up there.
Up where?
Right there. You see him? I can’t.
I
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I’m eighteen
never before tasted true devotion
never had the lingering touch of another’s
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In the beginning,
Man was a creature
Of potential unrealized.
The secrets of the universe
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Have you ever loved a flower,
On a young spring day?
Its petals are ever radiant,
Raised
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Chained to the earth is a castle of stone
Walls draped in greenery and spire dipped in snow.
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My life is that of a fallen fruit
Fresh, rich and healthy as can be
Succulent and stunning
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The moon, today,
Bold and pretentious,
Grew tired, it seems,
Of being small and
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I remember when my eyes opened
the second time. I turned up the music
how it harmonized
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It’s happening again
The thing is happening again
The thing...
It does not strike me in
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