The field lies like a still lake, an opaque film of silver or green—water or soil, apathy or memory—obscuring the mayhem underneath A tenebrous home once floated here. Inside: chrysalis, pupa, larvae, whatever I left those costumes in closets to mold over years ago. But, then again, my home was never on the ground. …
a poem about the uncertainty of our future
A poem about appreciating living life without knowing the future.
A kyrielle about treacherous exes for YeahWrite
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we all stand on the same bridge between birth and death our braided hair pinned back with memory neither smile nor scowl in our stance \ do not deny the air \ supporting the delicate \ suspension trusses \ girders \ cement steepled above \ a thread the river does not appear dangerous from this …
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