Posts
-
To the Plastic Bag of Broken Guitar Strings
There you go again:
Reciting beautiful words
That no one cares about.
My broken mouth waits impatiently;
-
-
Why Do I Cry, Little Fox?
Speak to me soft, little fox.
Don’t go yet.
Don’t whisper goodbye
To the sky
When you haven’t even realized
-
The Chaotic Misdemeanors of Bluejay One
A green tea bag is baking cold out on my porch
A piece of gray rock from the quarry wanted to be torched
Whipped cream pecks your cheeks with specks and flecks of blue
-
-
Up To My Neck
They’re everywhere:
Stories of growing up and getting old
And time slipping through a child’s fingers
Like sand at the beaches of your memories.
Loves
-
School
For 12 years of our lives, we are put in this place.
This place is where our energy slowly drains from our bodies.
The work that we do slowly gets harder and harder
-
-
A tribute to the observer.
Although I’d likely consider myself shy and coy,
Occasionally withdrawn from the crowd,
There are many facets of an observer.
For one,The ultimate observer can detect feigned emotion,
-
-
-
