The tree’s looked good today.
Day 2239, look.
Day's picturesthoughts
Day 2109, from my window 7.
Day's pictures
Another year is almost over, and the funny thing is, you don’t have to do anything for it; it’s a straight line no matter what happened on the sides of that road.
Day 1804, straight down.
Daily picture, Poetry
I am easy
with my leftover thoughts
~
they go
straight down the drain
~
some make compost out of it
they say it is good fertilizer
~
I think it leaves
a bad aftertaste
when you eat the new harvest
Day 1663, spilled.
Day's pictures, Poetry
From the clothespins
that are left
I can see
where you had your thought
hanging
to dry
~
I hope the blood stains
came out
Day 1634, tiny.
Day's pictures, Poetry
It crawled into me
between my grey
and my hat
~
a tiny thought
that I quickly
flicked away
Day 1524, out of sight.
History, Poetry
Some of my lines
of thought
seem to hover
in my
mid air
~
but maybe
I am just
the middleman
Day 1481, crossing in tension.
Day's pictures, Poetry
There are these
million of lines
criss crossing
in the empty space
where my thoughts
my mind
lies calmly
on this
tension
Day 1424, reflection
Day's pictures, Poetry
Looming
from the shadows
~
a reflection
behind bars
~
seeks day light
Day 1423, their own.
Day's pictures, Poetry
A lucent winter
reflects
on the morning
sun
~
the road ahead
empty
but I
don’t
slow down
~
my thoughts
go
their own
way
Day 1339, window.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Through a dirty
window
the sun
goes under
several
times
Day 1338, sea.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Standing still
on a beach
only breadth
is
reflecting
in
your mind
Day 1320, animals.
Day's pictures, Poetry
An animals stare
leaves no words
behind
but makes us
wonder
why
Day 1319, out to dry.
Day's pictures, Poetry
I had this thought
once
the ink was still wet
when I hung it
outside
to
dry
but the wind changed
and it flew away
Day 1316, holes.
Day's pictures, Poetry
It looks like
there are
perfect holes
in our logic
~
you can
if you want
measure
where they are
Day 1297, thoughts.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Its the dirt road
at my house
in the morning
that I drive
on
~
where they stare
at me
each day
~
if I stop
to look closer
they run
cowardly
~
like sheep
Day 1294, inside or out.
Day's pictures, Poetry
Nochrisis 