Wednesday Blues & A Pair of Shoes

A Shoes Poem

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Empty Refill & Pen

words are there thoughts are not thoughts are there words are not soul protest mind in unison (but) am now powerless superhero waiting for the power to reincarnate petrichored moon light crescent hiding my pale face with darkness brontide at horizon near the 42 heard not realized listened not felt The 42 is a residential … Continue reading Empty Refill & Pen

Birth

Wet petrichored psithurism echo As the night strikes another hour. Mud & dust over the grave washed Waiting for the dead to rise. Full the moon is, but, the clouds, Pregnant with water, hiding it. Deads will (though) rise from graves 'cause this moment is death next tick As the coming will follow it.