poem fifty eight.

by | | poems

my home smelled like a hospital the putrid clean burned my eyes when i think about who i want to be it is to be a self rewritten from a lost first draft

poem fifty seven.

by | | poems

a sand hill in a glass globe stored in trays they grovel bent before their god like chocolate chip cookies on a baking sheet i was part of an army who discovered this place

poem fifty six.

by | | poems

oh hello to the light in your eyes two strangers on a train meet and a moment stretches into a lifetime they ride horseback alone on a mountain in their minds the tracks turn they sway they keep walking...

poem fifty five.

by | | poems

i live in a world of coffee and poetry words flow until they stop guttered shunted to the side by the small slopes of life ushered into the mouths of the starved who seek caffeine and...