twenty minutes later
it’s daytime sky, washed blue
not deep violet
not indigo hush
not what was here, before
the sky is on the list now,
added to this daily tally
of ordinary things
we
once
were used to
but now
are going,
gone
twenty minutes later
it’s daytime sky, washed blue
not deep violet
not indigo hush
not what was here, before
the sky is on the list now,
added to this daily tally
of ordinary things
we
once
were used to
but now
are going,
gone
aka: The Happy Bookers
Artist
MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME
I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"
custom poems on vintage typewriters
One Poet's Writing Practice
A Ronka Poetry Practice
Living in the moment
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
