Why rage
at tide. And hope
for still water.
Having grown
smaller than the soul of
a mayfly.
That tickles
our skin and
creates
internal steam
Month: May 2025
The Color Blue
It disturbs me
The me
The me reminded
Of bodies in snow
That winter
When I wandered
Too far
From home
The me
The me with a lantern
Casting counterfeit light
On woods
Where soulbane trees
Shudder
Where birds
Are stone in their nests
The me
The me wearing
One heavy moment
And another
The me
The me stepping over
Brittle faces
In a moment
Disconnected