Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2020
The gift of wine. My glass cups a ruby pool. And there are moths in the shed
dancing unforbidden in shoals of suspenseful dust. As I court the approaching nowhere
with a Spirit in my Grasp. I debunk the ruin of my days with my casual glooming.
Soaking in the bloated beauty of our constant world
as we blunder on the surface
of our childhood dreams…
A bronze rope
spooling from the sun
has found my
open hand.

Upon felling an Oak.
Third Eye Candy
Written by
Third Eye Candy  M/USA
(M/USA)   
113
   Third Eye Candy
Please log in to view and add comments on poems