Jan
16
On Writing & The Body
Spit still gathers on the tip of my tongue when I yawn,
deciding whether it should drop off the end.
2 min read
poetry
Nov
16
Autumn Haiku 2016
Sun seeps through the fog.
It warms the dewy concrete path
And the slick brown leaves.
My hands finally feel
Oct
27
Autumn Haiku 2015
I watch the sun set,
sinking, red, just past the clouds,
Grandma on my mind.
Guided by the bright
colors