1/26/2021

Empty Stalls


Winter’s last workhorse 

fallen in the melting snow, 

nostrils flaring, willing 

itself not to exhale yet 

another winter poem.


[LSS, 1/26/21]

at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

“Naked in the Snow” “It could be kind of Scandinavian,” he says about the title he’s suggesting,  “but don’t show any bodies.   You’re...

  • (no title)
    Soup the peyote was harsh and unforgiving I blanked out whatever dark path I traveled   you brought me a bowl of soup on a tray wh...
  • (no title)
    Cartomancy where is the tandem bicycle you imagined the double kayak, the larger than life size tent   driving cross country is not ...
  • (no title)
    Specious Sunrise A little bit of light is lost every morning. The transfer of power is always incomplete.  There is no such thing as...