| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4316 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Seed Treezaa (T.E. Ballard) Oh, how lovely are these bones, soft contour of white, hip stone. If I stop loving, do I exist or do I become like leaf, dead and brown? One hope born again in seed. Yesterday, we gathered the maple in bags and my child asked me, what it was I feared? I wanted to explain the sound of poems and hungry dogs who waited in my sleep yet I simply said, myself. |
