Yesterday a poem sang into the cedar air; I heard it from inside my window. Mist-throated, Clair! it churred a wake-up call and I thought...
Tag: writing
I relate…
and stars and loves...
Understanding there is no write way
A teacher tests these lines...
Meditations on The Last Poet
I ride to zem as though on the last SUP fearing...
The word as a vehicle
What is fortune but a...
Surrender to a distinct instinct
(through a common practice) ...
In the morning
I don’t wait for the light but it arrives...
There’s always room
then I would feel the wings of...
What if
What if I’m wrong to...
A landing star
Your poetry unfolds like a light in the dark: the flame grows. ...
LiaThePoet 