#smallpoems Grappling lead from my heart yet I am scattered, hurt and deeply tired. bemoan partisan differences inability to engage in civic discourse people question inner truths trauma on top of trauma to do with rhetoric. Supportive networks tension between what I want versus what I responsibly should do essential knowledge for our teachers stakes are rai
#smallpoems Twilight glances fall while our lighthouse prances with a flirting summer moon intertwined Souls born in flames of Chimbaroza's desire their fire tames in The Way of the Andes aAfluid jaguar flows to Our Big House atop Cane River Child of Kil knows Truth points outward, not up towards our river where time and water pass, knowing our lighthouse mu
Sounds of home schooling lulling my attention to better spaces not sure. Maybe a metronome keeping time for the clarinet or a Pileated Pecker beating out a feast against the trees Strange harmonies in our home #smallpoems
A specter seeing the unseen apparition animated in angst. A poltergeist pouncing on possibilities in the revenant of revelry turns incorporeal innocence from night to day light to dark as the clock continues to click in those moments we must seek to wonder About another celestially sent Sensed in all that surrounds never abound, but bonded by love and wonder
Splintered pasts gather in concrete futures stolen glances of sun's march As two who never were come to be in glimpses of impossible destiny Interest aligned eyes locked destiny's knot unwound as feet wrestle fallen leaves Just as the dogs run determined to get nowhere at all, their paths can never cross Warmed by the pleasure of shared mystery history at th
unleash holes in broken nows who claw through glass eyes in hopes of refactoring a better tomorrow Let desire drive destiny Set fire and knives to Those Flee A reality Me rooted In thee I write No choice. words bleed into screeds seeking silence in a broken soul pen picking up pieces and wrapping poems in pixels Poetry allows my scar tissue to breath Whisper
I sit restless As somber Solitude settles in House now as Asleep as streets Who cry in agony, lusting after lost Action Souls searching for Sounds upon empty Seas of forgotten misery
Sometimes reality seeps Into peripheral vision A Sense of mission when Wishing brings no Answers. Just unasked Questions seeking Anchors Impossible realities, barnacles Growing on rusted prints Dripping in stolen yesteryear
Giants of old hang tired, towering over a history past by. Branches bend and crumble under weight of knowing no spring will come now dwellings of decay a future robbed hordes of gypsies descended a pandemic in the canopy killing so many now empty Mausoleums of mourning
#smallpoems The most interesting thing outside your window right now that you see every day, keep thinking about parallels between COVID-19 and the gypsy moth and ash beetle that devastated forests of southeastern Connecticut: Giants of old hang tired, towering over a history past by. Branches bend and crumble under weight of knowing no spring will come now
I have a rock everyone should mine stained in black graffiti of a gypsy invasion Still I sit and watch and think and sit, I return to my rock often, not every day but enough find your rock you need it #smallpoems
Connecticut, Algonquin for "Long Tidal River" English translation "FU to history" 169 towns 169 lies Flaunting truth Blue placard signs greet Guests with Settlement dates documenting manifest destiny's baby steps Aint no town been put down Where people aint been before Our language cast saviors' history layers of tailored truths masking misery Pilgrims and C
Sometimes reality seeps Into peripheral vision A Sense of mission when Wishing brings no Answers. Just unasked Questions seeking Anchors Impossible realities, barnacles Growing on rusted prints Dripping in stolen yesteryear #smallpoems
I sit restless As somber Solitude settles in House now as Asleep as streets Who cry in agony, lusting after lost Action Souls searching for Sounds upon empty Seas of forgotten misery #smallpoems
I write No choice. words bleed into screeds seeking silence in a broken soul pen picking up pieces and wrapping poems in pixels #smallpoems #writingcommunity #clmooc