unspoken for
Let me be…more than that bitter-root wine.
Author: windstrewn
Average Dude. Sometimes, I Write.
on jovian clouds
New music!
color the cow
Maybe it doesn’t matter if you do right.
gossamer in the crown
Leave me to live on your ceiling and, between us, well enough alone.
barely there
Happiness, I swear…
crackerjackin’
More music…
why we were on the bus
To what sunset should I sweat-lay the rail?
three girls: jazzy lou
Jazzy Lou would be a song
the gulls would sing…
dolor cordis
It rhymes its rack-and-ruin rise to the hope in my glacé eyes.
lens on a recluse
Strange does fit the recluse, dresses up a bit the riddle of it.
alms for an almanac
The toil and over-turned earth of it, for but a dearth of believable dreams.
the poet: a community interaction
Read me with a genuine desire to see me.
mount melanchol
My heart has become gaunt of fate, my traipsing twisted.
sushecrets of a sensei
Sushi me again…
cloven clover
Show me the stone that sings your melody…
dublemma
Originally posted on WINDSTREWN:
I’m neither young nor old, but I feel like both. We always seem at war with…
that’s gonna leave a mark
It was a rickety rack and a rook at risk, all chess to be checkmated, I swear.
sandbox souvenirs
Originally posted on WINDSTREWN:
In myriad ways, now and since, I’m less a formidable force than then, When I was…
throwback: 2007: the dream of words
Hope bore you home and when you came, mystery fell and broke open wide.
tiza (excerpt)
The children…called him “Tristeza del Padre.”
tetelestai
Tetelestai
equum spem
Save Destiny, but She was with you already…
throwback: 1998: the music box
The cloth of music is sewn as the spiny drum spins its wonder-thread.
throwback: 1991: stowaway
Swing your smile on my heart like children play
regretless
But I’ve become a worn welcome to chance, having dreamt near all I’ve done.
throwback: 1988: wildcards were made for mixed hands
I have exactly three cardboard boxes that smell of musty rental storage.
keep the key
It took time, but I dug up that heart-choking chain.
sail, against whatever wind
I don’t dare care. Against what they say, I know.
in the meantime
My heart abruptly, but softly, suggests, “Tell her.”
paperworld
As batten on brickstone would build a wall…
snellen’s snare
The past is a curious optic.
fallen fates
Against all my heart has loved I hold a difference and a debt.
