loneliness
doesn't have a tongue –
it speaks
through a dripping faucet
and the tempest in my mind
A Hundred Gourds, 4:4, September 2015
A Room of My Own: July 4th Reflection Tanka
-
not down in the gutter
or high in the cirrus clouds ...
at thirty
holding a cubicle job
I stare at the fireworks-lit sky
FYI: I was reminded of the followi...
