a poem about treesmaybe the sweetest place ive ever been was my place by the foot of the pire (campanile)a poem about trees
where i listened in on the belvedere (there i sat listening) and (h)our after-hours however short-lived (h)our after-hours lasted forever, and ever
Endeavor, my dear
listening for you, searching for my Self by the foot of the campanile beyond that bust of concrete i found you in a tree and i tell myself you will come (to me) if you were meant to come love if you were meant to love
3 haikutongue a broken brush his spit is calligraphy running at the mouth3 haiku
a tired face and eyes harbor twin consciousness felt with a pen tip
universal glimpse dawns upon dark, sets upon a light meal, soul food
--
giving a voice to conditions or states of mind normally associated with speechlessness
-Franz Wright
HIHI
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