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
