I went to the ocean where the waves gently lappedAnd I waited for the wind.I’d seen its work…
In the flashback, a patch of cotton plants, beacons of light reared for reaping a yarn…
in the mania of springshe and other misdemeanorsblossom in the periphery
I seek not a wraith of touch but a spirit of hearing.I seek not a cadaver of…
Wednesday Prose Poem Prompt: moving expressions