Poems Don’t Shoot My thoughts fluttering in the breeze come to rest awhile upon your tree won't peck your ripe fruits nor drop any wasteMarch 8, 20182 Comments
Poems Songs of the dead Their wise songs have gone, dashed against cliffs. Wiping off dewdrops from grass lips, the day stretches till its grayness splits. A bird sings from a branch. Both are plastic.March 2, 20182 Comments