Poetry
Nightscape
Fog horns sound though air soaked in blackness. All evening long listening to hiss of trucks, cars. Shadows brush across walls as trees
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Fog horns sound though air soaked in blackness. All evening long listening to hiss of trucks, cars. Shadows brush across walls as trees
Another night scratching my head as I reach for a pencil. Another night spent torturing words in the mind’s muddied trenches, proving that yes you
Like a geek, a fancy of being blacklisted as they create the fluky of the flight as they target silos, higher heaven of eaves how
He wants to embrace the night; The dark, mysterious but mesmerizing sight. The starry sky, Lonely moon, Stuck in his head As the lone
Buildings blacken like the sky, And hovels their roots beneath The earth, run like fingers to Ghana, Street skirted by masts, narrowed
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At exactly twelve noon, she was found dead. Sitting all by herself, a fat old cat resting at the foot of her chair; oblivious of