How many tears
will be lost today—
If the ocean dried up
could it be refilled?
A salted downpour
spreads over the earth
drenching open space,
tilling terrain for aches.
Liquid seeds sprung
from memories grow
in the dark of night.
A weeping willow
crawls into our pillows,
drenching dreams
to format forebode.
As water rises
and sorrow overflows
we slip,
slide,
stumble,
further from dry land.
How many minds
will drop to deeper depths—
How many bodies will drown
in their lachrymose sea?
An honest mess- A rain cloud affair; Nothing more than clothes in the corner piled high on the chair, Your mouth says a name- doesn’t seem to know mine. Who knows if you’ll ever say what you mean? Mes
What if spilled ink Was nothing more than Dense words compacted On your muddled page? Not a mess to mop up, But a message to sort out. What sort of message Would we find in the Deep recesses of our pe
The ephemeral glow of the sun, rising above the ocean. Light rays reach out, like the hands of a god offering eternal tranquility. Gossamer glaze covering photographs that never do justice to reality.
