dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: conversations

Our tongues lie down

Like breeze-brushed

Hayfields in the summertime,

Dry but alive

And dancing

In their own weary way,

Each golden grain

Saying much with little

Snake-like flicks,

Sharply sentencing

The sky forever to

The cracked clay.

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The

Simplest little

Light conversations

Become constellations

Whose symmetry map out destiny

Until one by one stars dim into darkness,

Sending the hopeful astrologer

Smashing her telescope

Into dark jagged

Patterns on the

Ground.