Sometimes sunsets are
synonymous...
a bone without meat
the chewing heard amidst the street...
8
Has anyone noticed...
i miss this
you and me...
“my soul is …” she said thoughtfully
“wait. Hold that thought. Let me get a glass of...
guide me, help me
like you always do...
I am not a poet.
No linguist, nor painter of the written word...
way past
midnight...
you make yourself a colony,
to swiftly invade what’s not...
I try to hide in the shades of
yellow, crossing words that no...
I reach with spider webs for fingers
Connecting souls within my life...
I fumigate my lungs,
with pennies from my life...