dreaming droning
cicadas—their sawing
voices splitting heat
Advertisements
Writing
4/22/19: When Syllables Rebel
I find myself in
a centipede’s mind—much too
many hands and feet
4/21/19: Don’t Ask
turn
away—tonight’s moon is
all shoulders
4/20/19: Named April
she cries
the month of her soul
is never April
4/18/19: An Insomniac’s Lament
after a time
you cannot know which
half is wakeful
4/17/19: Trying to Explain
low, humming
conversation—if only
mumbling were enough
4/16/19: Bereft Again
feeling everything—
everywhere you go—has
just left
