My brain creaks like an old rusted wheel On a red Radio flyer Spewing out nonsensical Poetry, my muse left Over an hour Ago, thrashing, Fighting for One more Poem

Memento Mori My crush gifted me a book on trees and I placed within it a four leaf clover, another gift a different day, treasured talisman, there still all this time, flat memento to love lost.

hey so yeah  my birthday  in winter kinda  technically late autumn  and for a long time I really dreaded the day aging wasn’t so bad, but the performative bullshit was far too heavy  

My own Lampropeltis getula Hungry little scaly sass-snek Lover of mice and rangoon Why rattle, Vesper love, When nothing’s to fear? Hide in my hands, My feisty Evening Star.

Mitch Brown Hr 12 No No Nonet The written word speaks loud to the herd Our attempts to entertain them We speak and try,make them cry Or give them hearty laughs Attempts we have made Some are a shade A few words Can mean Much

Yule Cold Longest Night of the year. We gather our wood, to burn through the long cold night.

Now (Hour 12 Half Marathon 2021) What kind of world do we live in now? All kinds of red lines in the sand. Wind blows sand and line away. What don’t they understand? Our destiny Lies beyond thought Hand grips if Not now When

Walking a mile most days this plague year past my workshop and out the gate down to the mailbox cluster and the butterbur patch and up the steep hill familiar yet different up I go

I will be discovered in hiding opening my eyes to brightness A distant stranger to me lives within my soul parts I have not seen her Its been some time since we have been one whole

Sun drenched fields The smell of pine in the air Patches of goldenrod everywhere Laughing and holding hands