In darkness,
without any words...
Give me the blue of speed
as I race across the fields...
I can’t write you poetry,
play guitar...
Freewrite...
Sweet baby bird
with your wings burned black...
0- The womb.
In the third week vision becomes clear...
I am a forest of tress.
An inspiring lattice...
Matriarchal led
only mammal that can't jump...
There are gentle Spring days
when the air hushes...
Onto a cow field
They did trot...
maroon, and mottled.
stem worn thin...
Some shores are best unkempt
Intricate glass carvings and glass...