Hour Eighteen 3993 Sun-stroked gardens season stained carpets of variegated color- the clean scent of greenery and herbs a pleasant arousal to the senses. The Chickweeds gather in droves clucking away with banter cleaving to the Cleavers until Evening Primrose. Goats Rue the interruption while…

Hour Seventeen I am convinced flies have genetic memory to the swatter- dashing through the air landing upon naked skin crawling a constant hum of buzzing afflicting my quiet. I pick up the swatter and the nerve-grinding melody ceases. I scan the room and cajole…

Hour Seventeen I am convinced flies have genetic memory to the swatter- dashing through the air landing upon naked skin crawling a constant hum of buzzing afflicting my quiet. I pick up the swatter and the nerve-grinding melody ceases. I scan the room and cajole…

Hour Sixteen Sequestered away in fear like a deer in the headlights, wide-eyed at the atrocities of human nature. I once wore a misanthropic hat lined with burs of Burdock that clung to the scalp ripping out my hair in chunks. My experience with humankind…

Hour Fifteen 11:11 I once had a friend named Bitterness whose caustic nature ate away at the very core of my being. Memories, a swampland I slogged through with years of mud caked to the tattered soul at my feet while Bitterness urged me toward…

Hour Fourteen (The Other Side of the Coin) They pay it forward and press upon the smalls of backs urging one to continue- they hush the noise of conflict and like lampposts, guide the way with experience latched to their backs and wisdom tucked into…

Hour Thirteen (One Side of a Coin) 11:11 Cracking the shell of identity tiptoe down the minefield of popular opinion – to where even the waters of emotion are infiltrated by metallurgic constructs intended to eviscerate the existence of personal desire and choice. Mindful and…

Hour Twelve Pause and reflect for cause and effect. They ask me to wait as I watch the hands of a clock hold time more than I have been- no rush, just wait biding my time in the midst of rhyme They tell me, “Wait.”…

Hour Eleven How many grains of sand on a beach? How many minds can one teach? How many atoms make up this land? How often should each soul lend a hand? How many leaves fall in the autumn? How many have been beaten down by…

Hour Ten Kyrielle form Will you still say you love me when the fall of age when it begins and when my waist is out of place upon my features will you trace The outline of my eyes that look like jeweled sunflowers pressed in…