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.
Sunday, November 06, 2011
dappled sunlight reignites air delirium leaves seem to pleat in the strident fall in the tombstones one can hear swish of impending storm
which shell emits piercing sound, is that an omen? why don't I see birds in the splendor of a cemetery? shouldn't they be soothed as I am calmed by the dead still?