Tag: poetry
-
Day 22
rushing her work, damp snow plunges through night air, knowing full well her fate is to dissolve and river-away come morning
-
Day 21
when you tell of youth, and risk, and being bold, you do not reveal the cloister in your heart — how even now it hides itself
-
Day 20
is it a god or a black cat that crosses my path in these woods? am I cursed, sainted, lost, or simply trespassing?
-
Day 19
that dark corner may recall years past as it sighs – drowsy, in a haze – that I was here writing long into its unwinding future
-
Day 14
I thought I had ripped that vine down dead, but it grows on, out of reach, even in winter, mocking me and my scythe both
-
Day 13
a word for soft green with deep crevices fluttering in dark, yellow-gold sunlight, unburdened by wet snow
