Poetry

(This November, I wrote a poem a day. I skipped a few days. But I ended up with 46 poems in total. Here's one of them, the most authentic...

Barefoot we tread, we wander Fabric ripped from our souls in the rain When wet, the earth pushes back kinder It conforms to the smooth...

a candle burning fades low and grey. it has lost its violence, its passions, its life. wax tears sluice down the remainder of its body,...