poetry Uncategorized

a tome in place

victrola blossoms
pollinated by wreckless notes

miss you by the rolling stones
dripping across the floor
and an open copy of the arabian nights

today as i write
my prose feels too much like pynchon
more misguided and less justified

it is a day
when the books
are holding up the shelves

eyes seeking oil lamp light

blue jays remain to watch the leaves peak into colors they are incapable of

i prefer to reread the years of letters

be grateful for the warmth within the cottage

merrymaking thoughts

and the expectation of packages

Leave a Reply