The poet steps away from the poem(s)
but feels
the groundwater trickle
nourishing the green.
Painting By Fyodor Vasilyev (1850—1873) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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Nightfall
Woken from a deep slumber, as if my name was spoken aloud. Only the spotlight of a honeyed full moon sings across my shadowed walls. Heart...
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Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow... -
When I wonder do we first think we Are welcome to the world? From the abyss of a watery womb we hear outside of Us w...
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