Sunday, September 15, 2013

So here we are
with words, fingers,
sighs & spaces,
saying nothing
in these same words
over-worn & overwrought

breaking ideas into pieces
for a pound of flesh
mine for yours
many too much
wine back to water
salt of the sea

The weather is watching,
always changing
how we breathe.


  1. feeling the air
    we stop
    so here
    ideas can grow
    into wrinkled
    for all that changing and
    streamimg free of range

    to the once lost in a
    library of eyes
    thier roots always reached into pools of stone
    into the tiny grey light