I love writing and reading poems, not so much the classics these days but knew fresh stuff I find that exciting. New styles and new ideas. Some people paint, or write books or do crafts to get the inside out, me I do poetry and read the inside of folk I love to write fun and nature poems the best though.
Before the spill there was soaring. And then anti-g. I readied myself for the ultimate fall. This was the poetry of submission sharing the pain of disillusionment. Who was pretending of liberation in a see-through heart? This was the time
Since I saw you, I’ve had this hope live in me. That everything that isn’t needed be gone. The details of sales papers, shopping carts. The ease of temptation. Standing still. To fill my cart full of things I don’t
Slashing the surged monarchy of celibates stoking the fire of wounds, the turret locks on to a target taking off the gloves. The mountain was rising. A sheet of the floating ice disturbs the ecology of heart. I place my
Ceramic memories and terracotta pain; the injured crypt ultimately got opened. At urn burial, the name was absent. A pristine ritual for a nameless martyr. The sword within him was not used and pubescent bomb went unexploded. You leave a