Saturday, December 3, 2022

One Minute


Walking through the white painted door, 

splintered with time rot, 

feet thumping across porch wood,

to false smile at you.   

I want to say the words swirling in 

the ending, after sounds. Some 

honesty, a feeling is interrupted, 

passes into solitary thought, again. 


 




at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Thoughts

  In my work as a psychotherapist, I am fascinated by how often a persons’ stories interact with their natural landscape. How much of their ...

  • (no title)
     Excavation  They are out in the street, digging up the cement  with huge metal claws. Beneath is the dried dirt, full of pebbles. Below tha...
  • Standing Our Ground
    A harsh wind fists the forests’ wall of leaves. The shaken green smell expands my chest, cracking me open to air. Thunder sounds, vibr...
  • Yellow
     The leaves on the big backyard Oak have the first tinge of yellow and boom. My brain, friend and foe, presents a memory, me talking the two...