I have too much to say and too little people to say them to.
in the middle of the wispy green was a canvas.
My reflection stares back at me.
My letter to you. (Put into the “free-verse” category because I don’t have a prose category.)
hate is a parasite within each of us.
the sun, like the moon and stars, is our guardian. our mother.
the life which exists here is a subdued version of heady and brash.
they think they are selfless.
Silvery orb hanging in night sky,watching dots of silver fly byon six-laned highways. dots of silver hardly stop, pausing at gas stations,the occasional human wanderingaround its empty lots, averted eyes. three cars pull away reluctantlyfrom the endless current drawn to empty lots and open skies. girl with silver-lined eyes drowns her dreams in dark coffee,Continue reading “travelers”