there was a time where thoughts like these
would drain down and collect in the grove
of my palm, pooling into some condensated
collected point; some clarity of feeling,
but now there are only clouds.
“Time”
Reply
there was a time where thoughts like these
would drain down and collect in the grove
of my palm, pooling into some condensated
collected point; some clarity of feeling,
but now there are only clouds.
the stones point one way
through mist-eyed men
dead-faced women
helpless sudden storms
to roll a future for me.