Ghost ship sails backwards
in time's longest nights
into the fears of childhood
unable to sleep
tires snapping gravel
at 3 a.m.
the father is back
no land in sight.
Rural in Nature, Transcendental in Temperament
Blog Archive
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2020
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December
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- Poetry for Whom?
- Pendulum
- To Be Continued
- Slow Fade
- Awaiting Vaccination
- Christmas
- The Spring
- Solstice in the Dark
- Going Deep
- New Age Tidings
- Still Life XX XX Civilized
- Solstice Nearing
- Wet Snow Woods
- Something More
- East Before Sunrise
- Born of December
- A Ghosting Snow
- Inclement
- Watching the News: No Ideas But In Things
- Ghost Ship
- One Hill
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December
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