There is a hidden warmth in you
you do not show to others
and it pulls me under
like quick sand.
Or maybe it is the movement
of the sands that embalms
my body and carves out a
sinking place for it.
Or quite possibly the sands
are a prison holding my
body as it lays me down
waiting to drown as
the wicked seas overwhelm.
Or maybe I am at the helm,
I am sitting out far inside
the seas, I am waiting to
be brought ashore
I am waiting
Or I wait no more.
I am not quite sure.
Tickle your toes. . .
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RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
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Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
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Though it hasn't been months since I have written and attempted edits within my memoir, it has been quite some time since I have reflect...
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Cal, For Elizabeth Bishop You are American gossip, Didn't anyone have the heart to tell you? You said yourself, you are fantastic and u...
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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Recently I have been really attempting to delve into what it means to be a poet. Jim Morrison once wanted to be a poet, and look where it go...
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