NOD TO A FALLING TREE I ran into a skanking daffodil drunk on something Screaming and surely saying something Important to sober up my indisposed mind A leftover from burning embers a pile of ash Redeeming itself to rekindle its scalded flowers From...
AT HIS HOUSE I visited the Poet’s house. At the living room they had a picture of him wearing glasses hanging on the wall, wide eyed lurking from behind the transparent lenses. A man whomsoever he is; is strong in his own house but here was no man...
