the writer

as simple as she is

complicated

as free as she is

bound

thoughts always

mind or paper

tip of pen

crest of love

lost…

yet found-ed

the writer

as sure as she is

unsteady

bares her soul

buries her gaze

life in words

creating pictures

big love sur

(photograph-like)

henry, anais, jack

my poetic heroes

dirty floors, and

transatlantic pbj’s

city lights and

creeks of shame

the writer looms in head

searching for peace

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