Spring Morning

The sun has risen
leaving sky bold, blue, and white
crows caw, bluebirds sing

– Spring Morning –

’till I sleep

I have passed the light of revelation
and into the twilight of revolution
where no stars shimmer save one
the north guiding dreams of
softer selves in softer days
knowing when sets the sun complete
the moon will be left alone to weep
and shadows will have their hours
’till I sleep
they will have their hours
’till I sleep.

On Writing

Breath is word is breath
to not write what I am
is to stop breathing
Dream is flow is dream
to not spit who I am
is to stop dreaming
Paper is skin is paper
No paper nor keys to write
and I will use the sky
Breath is word is breath
Dream is flow is dream
Paper is skin is paper

Writing is life is poetry