Poetry, Prose, and Thoughts for the mentally exhausted, the morally intrigued, and the late night internet surfer hopped up on caffine. For you with strained eyes, a tired soul, and rhythm in your heart.
"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
I walk past bark sheeted in lichen. Above me, green dappled yellow leaves droop with the rain. A line of cement, cold, slick, wet, beneath my feet.
I stop stand breath in humidity. And fall in love with precipitation.