"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Poem II - New Words.

New words
sometimes come slowly--
they have to brew,
steep,
like a good cup
of green tea.
Then,
you breath in the aroma
of those new words
and wonder why
they took so long
to fester.
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2 comments:

"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."

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