contemplating the mess of things
contemplating the mess of things today i can tomorrow i'm working on it walking out in the wilderness of winter lose my sense of smell and direction face numb eyes…
if a poet on a winter’s night – introduction
if a poet on a winter's night - introduction If writing poetry is the first indication of becoming a poet, I suppose I arrived years ago. In my 20s…
in the dead of winter
in the dead of winter i could no longer feel my love not for myself even my children were feral and unknown snow whispered down all-day alone the breaker…