For every childvowed to be the calyxto cradle each budding soulwith a tender heart But I am imperfectideals devolvingin the face of losscross unbearable Tend my own garden nowrecognizing the powerof example overridingoppression of control. (Image my own)
Concrete is cold, imposingdoes nothing for aesthetics At least we’re protected,I tell the littles, ignoring Snot dripping, slimeoozing from unsealedwindowsills, cobwebsand bits of shedding pink It’s the best I can do:four walls and a roof. Except the ceilingis bulging, mold and rotcertain to rain down on us While upstairs, the manignores the leaks, luxuriatesin his […]
Erasing the past –collecting ash with chopsticks –infertile practiceembrace, learn, and recreatewe are clay – artist’s magic.
Wow, lovely–“milk-pod dreams”, what a perfect phrase.
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Thanks. Milk pods make me feel wistful, although I can’t really remember why, lol.
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🙂
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