Wednesday, December 9, 2015

some times we need words to feel the empty space

within my personal pc,
words grow roots
without soil,
in typos and confusion
fantasy flies
a sugar cube

the background music
and the long forgotten memory
orchestrating small joy
despite noisy
cuckoo clock, tipping, toeing,
all the way
from Vermont park
to Tokoyo Tennis court
reinforcing Botanic Garden
to my backyard

green lawn refreshes
frozen wheat field

time to plow the cotton woods
and give spring energy to sprout