#325. wordclay

July 16, 2010

poetry is a sweet mix up
of the senses

vision blurrd
bound by naught
sight as meant
to be seen

clarity as a concept
irreverelevant

hazy how
time appears
fortunate
though

vision
clearly
hazy

clearly

#87. Long Isle Pastoral

November 20, 2009

a green blurb of a thing
black and red
foundation houses
skated roofs
against a brassy sky
hazy (or lazy
silver cloud lining
copper
blue
somewhat deep sound of wave
slap
against the sailboat
i wanna be the mast.

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