poem

Someday gold

The grass is so dry now it’s mostly brown, a brown you would call golden if you looked at it right. And what’s to stop us from calling it gold? This stretch of life resigned to a form of living… Read More ›

Broken antenna

My phone says good morning to me, beside today’s temperature there sits a happy golden sun throwing beams like an Egyptian glyph. Past my phone, outside the window, the sun plays on the tall trees where invisible birds peep and… Read More ›

The way it ends

it’s hard to fathom all the words in the English language that must end with the letter m, or why anyone would think to put that in a poem. Thanks everyone for playing along on my 30-day posting streak!