[ink]
March 3, 2012 § Leave a comment
handful of ink —
if I had such a thing —
dripping through my fingers
poetry qotd
March 2, 2012 § Leave a comment
Poets are not born in a country.
Poets are born in childhood.
[bell at midnight]
February 29, 2012 § Leave a comment
Do the neighbors know
that the bell ringing at midnight
is mine?
[watching the trees]
February 28, 2012 § Leave a comment
watching the trees
is the only way I know
the wind is blowing
[sensed]
December 31, 2011 § Leave a comment
Image via Wikipedia
watching the trees
the wind sensed but not felt
a night kitchen 