Along the way I picked each string, With each string I held as I walked, The open path before me…
Category: Avant-garde
Where objects become the words of their own.
Words
Sobering her tongue were the first words heard, Till then it was but chitter chatter; tis not haste, All the…
Mirroring a Shade
People to me feel like shades,They come and go by sun's blink, At last it seems they never were, Each…
*
That's when I met her,On the ocean floor, Crystal light spelt better, A new gay door, The times in jest…
Slings, Jokes, others
Prince, sulk beneath a hooded light, When I say this joke however mean, I truly do mean in stronger word,…
Smoke on glass
A way was shut, A glass was filled, The red so pure, Who knew would last, A smoke so fine,…
Craft me a sea
Then sat down the moon yonder, I'm looking away whilst he writes, He's looking at me whilst I sing, I'm…
Hill spotting
I paint myself a picture leaping, Sooner the brush strokes rushed, They were crusted from disuse, All was tired lest…
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