Drink deep this echoing silence,
the winds that touch us no more,
the curses of dreams, remembered
upon waking and terrible.
Those things we have not been,
ghosts clinging like dried
sweat upon our skin, sounds
we still hear when the voices
that spoke them out into
gloom are long since gone.
A Haibun The sound of the hawk’s talons as they click against the cement floor is sharp and crisp. The raptor moves carefully, head duc...
We have been dreaming in unison but those dreams have fallen into disrepair, eaten away by the persistent rust of the many days here...
This ringing silence this house, once filled a place of voices now gone silent, a place that once echoed with the laughter of the...
Note: I taught a poetry class at Fyrecon this afternoon, and we did a few challenge poems during the participation segment of the class. Th...