weighing nothing

I weighed my self on a feather I did fly away with the first chill wheeze of the morning flew for a while then walked another mile light as the sun at first yawning let me help you stand oh brother take my hand the movement of this air seems absurd but when you weigh … Continue reading weighing nothing

digging water and kissing clouds

Poem #7 from The Book of Evenings Back to: The Book of Evenings – Introduction he must have been cold for it is May and there is no heat in the descending sun he stood in the Bay water above his knees a short-handled garden spade in his hands and he shoveled displacing water in a … Continue reading digging water and kissing clouds