I. Twenty-five years.Twenty-five million specks of dust.The flakes of rustblew through plastic and boards:life passed…
Tag: poet
A porcelain jar of skeleton keys
go to nothing,
lost their use in time.
The red sun rakes the grass, caressing the metal holding the hefty tabletop desk, where…
I gaze over Terra, beyond the boundariesOf the swaying tree lines and washing winds,that divide…
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