We pick, in dirt, fallen flowers
For gods to smell in darkness.
Dirt is fresh dust in our dawn,
Walking dirt from dog’s bark.
We pick our dirt on our faces… 33 more words
1 day, 9 hours ago
The sea catches high tide moon,
The moon just ribbon of shadow.
A river is just a ribbon from roof,
Often mistaken for curved snake. 24 more words
3 days, 9 hours ago
The old man has preset routine
That you see in a street corner
And in tap-tap his stick makes
As rhythm, on a road’s asphalt. 36 more words
5 days, 7 hours ago
I have seen the thief of entire hill
Chipping a hill off stone by stone.
Hills are unmade as home stones,
Their body pieces graveling roads. 25 more words
5 days, 11 hours ago
There are no stars in window.
Sky knows why they are gone.
A poet is certainly left behind.
The poet remembers a dream.
The earth shook a dream flat. 36 more words
6 days, 11 hours ago
We had our small hills growing big.
There are hills anywhere growing
Within us and in housing colonies.
We are mountains of our molehills.
We break rocks to their fine dust… 7 more words
1 week ago
Our words claim to be an authentic life
A breath not yet snapped,a wind going
In a mouth-hole, a water hole for eyes
A nosy hole to smell real world passing… 38 more words
1 week, 1 day ago