Oh Muse,‘tis I, the one that cries when a butterfly splatters on the windshield as I drive out of town to escape vulnerability. Your smile, a welcome companion as the miles escalate along with this longing burning like gasoline fueling the heart with desire as though it’s the driver just waiting to turn down your... Continue Reading →
Somewhere behind left in a dream at least one last line of poetry perhaps to be read, planted like a seed to nourish minds hungry or to help me sleep. I am late in wakening to 2020 it seems..
On the 14th we'll talk about what is right. Wrong.. make excuses about who what why decide when then casually stroll on towards oblivion. Seems change is not of interest unless money can be made. that's right! And WRONG