Trees please me.
Follow them home.
Tarnished folklore and
bright light bulbs.
Where are the cascading hills?
The aroma of sycamore
Pungent and earthy.
Drowned towns in anguished
bar loaves (?)
Connect.
Connect.
Feel as though you could
Reach in and touch the threads.
Ride the Liminal with me.
It's freeing to be nothing
and yet
Invigorating to be everything.
YOU ARE READING
Dumping Grounds
PoesiaSometimes when you are dumping your mind, poetry arises. In this anthology, travel with me to dreamy places or the dark corners of my mind, perhaps invoking the writer in you. I hope these pieces speak to you in some way as they have to me. Dumping...
