Since I have done nothing to add to this blog in the last several (many) months, I thought I better get crackin and do SOMETHING... so, a small selection of "poetry" from my distant and not so distant past.
He recalled beauty.
It's power and
An ache in the breast
Raw winter sky
Pounding the will
Crushing the symphony
She sits, always alone. Andrew Wyeth
and dreams of singing delicate music
of whispering her want to her beloved
in light cool moments.
Not much, but something.