Sundowny (NaPoWriMo17 5/30)
The golden seething summer sun settles in the west. Beams, like bristles, a pointy sundown crown. I don’t know who you are, but I’ve been waiting as you walk away […]
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Poetry
Continental (NaPoWriMo17 4/30)
The slow sweep of her geological clock the Pangeatic drifting as Mother Earth conjures up grim futures fissures faults.
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TTOWBW: Last 4th of July: Plan of Attack (NaPoWriMo17 3/30)
Founder’s Mound on the common green where heads of state still sleep rings of concrete and of trees be careful where you step Circles kept them safe at bay from
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Quirk Hollow (NaPoWriMo17 2/30)
Sleepy little burg that isn’t on any map, you can’t get to it from here and were traveling back is the only way forward. Population varies dependent on how the
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Veil
Do prayers truly reach Your throne room being half-asleep, much like the glass half-empty / half-full chosen wisely the cup, overflowing with water turned to wine. The miracle of Your
Big Adventure (NaPoWriMo17 10/30)
Cruising with the top down shotgun to escaped con showing what the rebel is, still getting the work done. Yet two, count ’em, two, distinct threads that have unraveled while
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Armchair Paparazzo
Armchair Paparazzo You have come to state this obsession thought often fought upon fawn til dawn over this red carpet rolled out for everyone. And I roll my eyes. Bowing
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Hidden Strings
Two lines in and there’s already too much cliché in this poem. It reeks of artificiality as if real words could never describe the how of how I feel. Try