I dream in hieroglyphics
and ink the walls of caves;
eschew the honorifics,
the accolades, the raves.
It’s all for fun, and all for free-
I’ll never make a buck.
Matter of fact, I’m in the hole,
but still I run amok.
Tag Archives: writing
The speeder
I have threads, vignettes.
Some fleshed out.
Others at loose ends.
This unseemly train has lost its brakes-
can’t stop at ancient stations.
Those sad confreres are left stranded,
waving.
***
image credit: https://pixabay.com/users/sjb3949-533112/
Shrinking violet
Being too-long hesitant
to mount the steps
makes one grow slipper-bound,
complacent in regret’s denial.
Greenish in hue
from watching the passers-by take to flight.
***
Aremyfeetofftheground 