Tag: monostich

windlike fingers explore this scalp of ebony blades

clean lines and odd faces the landscape is born again

if you find an old god remember the fire in its eyes

orioles chasing after the sun bus ride at dawn

dusk we fall into the space between sighs

the storm rages but the old crow knows that this too will pass

winter noon poetry is the words plucked from thin air

turns its back on civilization kingfisher stares at the forest

consumed by desires the crescent moon in the winter sky

the madness she brings the warmth of lips and hips