Mourning of the Morning
Poem There were blues in the hues of the morning, mourning the end of night. There, too, were warm rays of sunshine upon the heads of early doves. Words were absent from the...
Tagged: poem 70
Richardson
Poem As the wallpaper curled we lost everything every gift we gave every word we ever said from the basement explosion that seeped into carpet fibers and looked out over the car port...
Stop Where You Are (Be Thankful)
Spoken Word It takes courage to break bread With a sidewalk To raise a toast to the sounds Of rising tidal wave in the Form of feet — all sizes Fashions, all caring...
