Category: English

Will you show me the city?
For one last time, please!
but before that, let us
change our boots, 
the gravel knows our smell.

Sunshine lied.
It wasn’t a cloud
that stole my sun.

i print darkness

in patches of sun

to escape shadows of broken dreams

in the shutdown mode

life discovered an unsaved version

of a lusty dream.

A poem is born of a peapod
pierced by a nail. The shell secretes tears.
An eye grows on crooked thumb
seeds go asunder slipping through fingers
a slimy worm wriggles in mind
a caterpillar is born of the pen
powdery syllables settle on wings 
a butterfly mates with o’s and a’s
impregnating a rhyme.

1 June 2020