Sunday, 24 January 2016

sundried canopy

black bird in a night
sunrisen cloud; i see clearer
now that you are free. misspelled
contours of space and brick eyes
elevated our calligraphy hearts into
the knowing of grey scaled skies.
i am reminded to stay still and 
breathe slow towards you;
you, my magical utopia, you,
my sundried canopy.


grieving greif

bountiful snow with stagnant silver wings and baby steps leaning us forward. i have been in this attic before and the leaks were distancing ...