Does your writing dance above the words
or somewhere down below
Do voices borrowed and feelings loaned,
occlude your diction’s flow
Do phrases couple and stanzas mesh,
in new harmonic forms
Does music waltz proudly from page to page
—to score new lyrics born
(Walking With Colby: February, 2021)
One Voice
A place though small enough to write,
still big enough to dream
My pen, a passport out of time,
with phrases to redeem
The North Wind calls, a purple sky,
on wings my ear enchants
And hears but one voice through the clouds
—to make the letters dance
(The New Room: February, 2021)
Meta-Morph
You could,
but you can’t
You would,
though you won’t
You did,
then you didn’t
You were
—and you weren’t
(Dreamsleep: February, 2021)