Monday, August 29, 2016

Like Any Other




The moon, like a slice of orange not lemon, like a hunter’s meticulous eye thirsty for blood,

hides behind the retro-looking & rusty shades of my 2.5 sized studio apartment,

while I ponder once again on the beckoning question of mind trips & soul searching.


24-8-2016

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

21-eight

The wind changes
It blows north
It slaps the leaves barely hanging
dry and dark from the embrace of their mothers
while my long hair waves upward
with excitation and a touch so soothing
felt like an infant wondering freely
in the meadows of the ending summer breeze

A big calm smiles down upon my face
as I walk back home

on this serene and hazy night…

masks are hardly

  The breeze from the rushing train Still brushes my long hair Still gives a moment of surrender   Masks are hardly Breathable Y...