Tags » Sutro

Walking the Fog

We walked the fog

 weaving patterns within

the tall grasses and dill

looking for bits of glass

bits of brick in the rubble

of my father’s dream… 197 more words

Poetry

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Your Own Version and Mine

A thorn sticks in my finger and it penetrates right into my brain. There are times when I am afraid of my thoughts…scared of what my mind will conjure up for it’s own enjoyment or torture.I have been writing since 5 this morning. 548 more words

Pain