iron sky and frozen breath
the pall-grey feathered blanket
Self-doubt casts over grassgreen newness
and fragments of me whisper
to the sighing cobwebbed cortex,
as I fumble for Reason
what except sit in this corner
and write misfit words
on the back of a page,
abandon all your pretend worlds,
pretexts and swallow,
One thought on “unwritten, still”
It seems that no matter where I go on your blog, I find great poetry.
Are you published?
your words are so kind! and it’s funny you should ask about being published: i’m actually in the process of doing my first full-length book, which will be sent to press hopefully within the week! there’ll be a link up here on the site with more info soon. as you can imagine, i’m pretty psyched 🙂
thanks, as always, for your thoughts and for stopping by..