Day 7
Easy as
Turning eyes away
Arms passive
Words astray
You bestow on me this pain
And then look elsewhere
I'm phantom
The blur in old prints
Cracked, seeping
Meltwater
By absence of scrutiny
I cease now to be
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Paint Poem
Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio...
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Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio... -
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