windrag : poetry : journal

i’ve counted the books of poems in my house, and the spiders. good ratio.

seeing both sides, the seeker looks beyond, and asks a stupid question

clear spring night: the train– the sound that draws us to ask: where are we going?

spring: my faultless friends have spiders in the corners of their model home.

on the way to church, spring is a roadkill deer, and all of these questions