Beggars’ Feast

Eight more days 

crumbled

into our empty 

bowls.

[LSS, 9/29/22] 

Palimpsest

What did I use as a painting tool

to spread those blue words 

kneeling in my fleshy reflection? 

The seasons come and go, 

come and go, come and go. 

Come. 

And go.

Hiding is a form of disappearance.  

Rarity precedes extinction. 

The manuscript is leaving the station. 

The last train has been erased.

[LSS, 9/23/22]

Cinema of the Stitch II

This is where I steal

ideas for how to live

my life tomorrow,

embroidering a room

to wake into, a room 

to walk out of.

[LSS, 9/2/22]