Poems Poems Poetry

When the winter wheat comes I will think of you

It is now that we cast long looks
at the setting sun,
remember;
we are privileged. We take stock,
assessment of the jobs we have done.
The winter wheat will grow soon
where the corn stood in rows.
The green meat of the tips of those
tender stalks will in vibrating shadows
lift voices to the heavens—
So swift, so soon will be the color
laying there
all force will draw out from us, from this
our unifying center
where, ah
with catched breath
we will realize we are waiting
and have been,
since the fall.



that is a poem for the day by me



i think part of the reason i am writing so much lately, besides this sleepfull time of year always being sooo creative for me, is that i am reading a ton a ton a poetry. that and with all the changes i personally have undergone in the last three months, now with the retrograde my head is freakin goingoingoin. so it's easy to catch some automatic voices up there and channel um on to the page...



here's who i'm really in to today:





obviously you can't click to look inside. but you can click here to check her out. it was one of those total on instincts grab and buy. entirely by the feeling, the swell in the heart area when i lifted her off the shelf.

ok that is all.