It never seemed as obvioushow the minutiae of beingcame to be a warm hand,
a drop of rainwrinkling the skinof a dark park puddle,reflecting a dreamthat repeats itselfin uneven flashesrefusing an orderthat forms a storyyou can…
Journey
When all these streets are crossed
And the skies peel these heavy clouds from its chest,
We will all be lighter.
Freer to roam into the melting alleyways
In an attempt to be more poematic and respond to Lennie’s invitation to try out different poetic forms, this is my first attempt at arostic poetry, in which the first letter of each line spells out a word, message or the alphabet. The word comes from the…
