#poettok
cosmic stew
goulash for you
sometimes ghoulish
most assuredly true
so Me-times imbue
quite a flawless fondue
Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 7:14 AM UTC
Feather drifts in the paddock mist,
catches on a fence where the crow keeps watch,
slips past thistle and shadow‑fox,
rests by the lantern in the council’s glow —
and somewhere beyond the hill,
a glint waits for the hand that knows the way back.
.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 10:09 PM UTC
Fog writes you in,
hair a shifting font,
clothes, a quiet hearth —
the street braids itself around you.
.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 8:15 PM UTC
Hair like weather,
clothes like a hearth —
I hold the street open
and let its poems walk past.
.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 8:13 PM UTC