The Rogue Nun
Tapping the Collective
Swirls of sound
in intonations,
unknown
yet not unfamiliar,
wash through form
making mesh of matter--
molecules now nothing more
than pigment-less paint
for the endless dream.
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Haiku [untitled]
Winter and the cold snow bring the dark-eyed juncos. My heart, full, watches.
National Poetry Month - April 25, 2020
Today's color: White GISH Starchy shrapnel covers the cutting board-- evidence of a warped mind driven to carve a couch ...
Haiku
Saturday morning meditations...
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