in summer
each day a different location
a new face emerges
mountain man
feeling things out by not feeling at all
the time will never be right
(it will never be wrong, either)
the well has run dry, hasn't it?
words are hard
but still they come
worlds apart
a mirror image
wind in the face, nipping at the ends
a little at a time
never knowing what it was like to feel something and nothing at all
now i do
your arms are strong but your heart is buried
could we fly to the snow-covered alps?
it is much too warm here
was supposed to rain but here i am basking in the sunlight
feels more like baking
to me