And the yard—
unruled, unindexed—
keeps offering these small, stubborn gestures,
each one a pivot away from an old script,
each one a way of being here
without bowing to the frame.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 13th, 2026 05:06
- Comment from author about the poem: hopefully a short with some punch
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- In collections: 2026.
Offline)
Comments1
good write my friend
Thanks friend, much appreciated 🙏🏻🕊️
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