i hear you throaty warbles on cue as i step into the cold. but i have yet to behold the graceful arc of your neck and the playful dance of your trek along the ancient current. oh sandhill, it’s as if you weren’t so different from me floating on the edge of free.
it’s in the not knowing that the heart wrestles with pain on one side and joy on the other. not knowing whether to write or not to write, to build or not to build to preach to the captives or to stay silent. are the birds full of such angst as they gather before theirContinue reading “on not knowing. a poem.”
november moon hugging the edge of night are you the only witness to the plight of a heart decades ploughed and shorn by lies? white stalk-arms reach stiff to the inky skies frozen again under a white facade of cruel obedience and auld bravade how do you do it? she asks the shy sphere howContinue reading “november moon: a sonnet”