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Sarah L Apr 2021
the sky pulls its downy clouds
eastbound, up to her horizon,
for the spring is cold and
she is resting.

the sky, as cool as ice,
filters through the feathers,
hints of her just beyond
her night-darkened blanket.
the sky reminded me of putting a downy comforter up to the light.
Path Humble Jan 2015
feathers or snowflakes
nighttime,
unimportantly,
cannot differentiate
on the 16th floor
balcony
each an individualized n-vite

fall downy into down
of snow blankets of
freezing releasing cold comfort,
ice cream for the body entire

oh yes,
a sad one penned,
the nullity of his
throbbing everything,
sore tempted for quenching
by the soft permanence of white,
most tempting,
soft offering a laundering downy state

they say
see the good stuff

do,
but I*  feel  the bad stuff
with heartbeat regularity,
temple pounding repetitive asking
what's the next best
and other naming questions


the way in is not
way out...
this hole I dug dark,
no hand holds, dank, elongated

this time
happy you,
brevity suits

for the downy fall
fleeting floating abrupt and
suggesting
wonderfully right-sided answers
to questions his names asks

where is the humble path,
where is shelter at long last..
.

— The End —