A lost language,The loose words unstringing
It may just be under me, this hatch
The black air turns,The world remembers
Sapling, raise your headFrom bright blanket
Behind the rouge curtains and cued rounds of applauses, I found some cigarette butts and some used camera lenses that made absolutely no sense…
a one line poem in response to Kathy Jacobs’ Spring
in response to Emily Roberts’ Beauty