Yesterday,
when I couldn’t even
barely talk,
I tried to explain
How ink holds to bond,
blue changes white,
flowers break stones…
Why my eyes fall
off of the pale sky,
landing on my muddy boots.
My arms ached after
carrying my son
as far as I could
up tangled animal tracks;
One day after the rain,
One day before the sun,
warmer, but still not dry…
And it was late,
so I failed to explain how
In winter, we breathe smoke
and squint in the candlelight,
laboring against the dark.
In Summer, we smell the flowers
and sit, halfway to the sky
on mountain tops.
The Properties of Dust
1.
Orienteering
Tides
The Properties of Dust
2.
Storm
Oncology
Upon the Ruin
Golgotha
Demolition
3.
Watching a Woman From Across the Room
Moonrise
First Snow
Antarctic Whispers
Lines
Bedtime Prayer
4.
The Red Car
Something Lost
Slough
Home
After the War
5.
Lair
Love Poems
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About the Creator
A. F. Litt
Photographer, writer, filmmaker, wandering lost soul...
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