I am a woodpecker –my bleeding blacksmithcontinues to chisel outthe hard metamorphicinvisible crust.the light haunts,the tea needs warmth andlacks a stir.my skull feels theoutside pressure.I try to rinse out the mind,longing for the juicy coprawhose taste remains forgotten.but all that...
1 rule: SUBMIT YOUR BEST WORK “The absurd new normal” use the form below to submit For more info about A Poem A Day click here
Breathe as if trying to feel the scent of death
1 rule: SUBMIT YOUR BEST WORK “Feeding the hand that bites you” use the form below to submit For more info about A Poem A Day click here
The forgotten ones are with us in these woodlands: a crunch underfoot, the time it takes memory to go back in history