11:03

the lucky are gathered with their coins and charm
a split in the way the wind blows
a hat for the treetops, clear blue
all lost things find themselves home
somewhere new.

lately rhyme has been friendly and the sounds i create are gutters wired with rain…
creeley on the brain…

what course
is the world to take
with us in
its hold?

today my shoes
spark less
and the sparkles
your eyes

the sparkles
your eyes.

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “11:03

  1. Anonymous

    enjoying your april sumbissions. I wonder what may has in store…

  2. much less, i’m afraid.

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