windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Category: poem


Jupiter, Luna, Saturn, Altair, Lyra; the scuttlebutt about you falls on deaf ears, here. on this doorstep, you shine, and are free to be yourselves.

for reals

sometimes i wish myheroes would practice a bitat my house, for once

uh huh

be honest. what willdraw you down the wrong path. guilt?or something tasty?

the work

you can move the wordsaround, or you can get right,and then, say something.


not just strong, nor justflexible. at our best, we’retender—mettlesome.