windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Category: 17ft

the long workday

relax. you’ll find an island: hollow, melting into waves and blown around by wind. relax. you’ll be right here until there’s no place left to stand.

tone development

no tree enjoys its root-crown being buried and i am no exception. roots grow out, the trunk grows up. big rocks, hard soil create such graceful limbs.

a day in bed

a cup is lifted. all else disappears. forgetting all, becoming drink. just for the sake of setting down a cup a table comes to be.

got me

a valentine! this old man’s feeble fingers trace the lacy edges, bewildered. what gift have i to send? the tiniest breeze sings songs that stir the blood.

thoughts of the past

down comforter, you sap me of my strength and make me waste such precious hours of morning, dreaming. santa rez, las cruces, my friends are moving on!