All a-babble, catching the light in your hair, your
murmur soothing the streets
better than holiday waves on sand: every
idiosyncratic face of you brighter than dandelions,
every entire person wrapped in history and
nonchanlantly lapped in mystery, striding, strolling, or
trudging past my coffee-laden, tree-shaded
perch: you are galaxies of
existence, youíre awash with life, you are
only ever your own surprising self and even your
pores sing with presence: each scrap of clothes and
lilt of voice is humming with your individual gleam:
everyone. Thatís what I miss. Everyone.
See the new NaPoWriMo poems as they pop up, complete with pics of the handwritten drafts, and suggest titles for them, via whatever social media you call home:
All my poems on this site are now #FreeForPoets to play with, to write hybrid forms such as glosas, coupling poems, golden shovels, acrostics, centos, and erasures. Full permissions here: #FreeForPoets.