the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.

dealing with the putrid rain
water on my pant cuffs

twelve noon might as well be dusk
here where only the clouds shine

Be the first to like this post.

Filed Under: poetry

Tags: clouds

Enter your comment here...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

Email (required) (Not published)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s