Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.
Monday, March 07, 2011
I retreat into thinning time peeling the layers I left behind the churning ocean my fingertips move so slowly on the edge of time I wonder at the dryness sliding out of the way I walk the roads the narrow lanes startle me again the husk of time take me in I smile and turn my face