Pictures coming soon :)
A poem about ambiguity.
Tingle. Curated this mess.
Opening for nothing.
Muted mist.
Why did it happen? Was it ever true?
How do they see us? How do we see us?
Could I just, for a moment...
turn it off?
Gray knows the truth.
We fall down with gravity.
Breath in the foggy mist.
It's in the how.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
-
The ceiling fan. Textbook. Shopping bag. The Laundry basket. iPad. Rumpled bed. Searching for the best idea of the bunch, like ... -
Images of broken light dance before me like a million eyes Possessing and caressing me Waves of joy drift through my open mind ...
-
It was a dark muscular truck monster wheels like biceps of steel. On that night, the big hulk rolled down my driveway, size surreal...