Spiderfly Poets from under the tree February 10, 2017 · I want to wake in a garden bright with poems, Where words can play in the grass And tumble and roll like a cricket ball I…
I took myself back to the dream of life stretched far, its fingers waving in the wind loose and without direction. I have miles to tread .Un-perturbed this journey beckons. I took myself back to…
this nonsense has been so absurd remember the yellow fluffy bird the one that led a merry dance and then for two months went to France. the hatter stuck his stick in the ground and…
Time is burning away the essence of desire, together we run around the circle of want finding ourselves back at the starting line. I am to hold my dream in my own two hands and…
what is noise?…
Necessity is the mother of artistic invention. Without pencil paper paint and plight, what is necessary to create, a crying child with hallowed frown upon a mothers holy gown, she lacks a canvas to present,…
Seldom gate is swinging slow, beyond the path we seldom see. And should we seldom want to go, The gate swings shut to stoppeth thee. A breeze brings breathlessness to sigh, for we shall seldom…