Forward and back, time has us on a hookOur years like flipping the pages of a bookWe want to skip to the endBut…
Mr. Laing was a distant, working neighborLong ago, the snow was so deepHis Metropolitan muffled like…
Not every pathhas a determined end
The wind is looking for snowFor a brief period, as the Sun setsHorizontal light leaps over deep shadowsBehind the rocks and trees…
Where our sad brown river collapses at lastThe sea is as still as mercury and clear as…
Time as aRecursive lemniscateLooping matte black fabricThat exudes rosewood and tar
The rings of ages coil around meEndless skeins of onionskinEach as thin as an eyelashCut through, I could count the years
A fleeting poem
Like children we build sandcastles,pouring sand upon sand,searching for ourselves,but remaining in the…
Consider that maybe you’re not ready
