Home to yawns and
pillow-yarn;
sleep dustballs
and quiet
are my poems;
they’re end-of-the-day quirks,
beaten up by
living them through
in my lifetime:
each poem a seperate jewel,
a seperate study
in something.
Home to yawns and
pillow-yarn;
sleep dustballs
and quiet
are my poems;
they’re end-of-the-day quirks,
beaten up by
living them through
in my lifetime:
each poem a seperate jewel,
a seperate study
in something.