If I
am anything
at all
it’s but
a bunch
of words
but you
my love
you are
my punctuation
Author: Harlan Didrickson
I first started writing this blog as a way to refocus my thinking after a debilitating mental breakdown in 2008. Having been educated in writing, I had hoped that my love for words would have left a trail for me to follow and, well, here we are.
Hand
Does dark
turn black
or does
time dilute
it gray
a milky
kind of
musty matter
wiped aside
and away
with the
back of
a hand
Once
This slow time
that low time
when an almost
seems more likely
as hand grabs
a leaving arm
and eyes plea
then trail behind
all that’s left
are the footprints
of some fragrance
and the once
that made was
Endings
When cast overboard
and into sea
a drowning man
will clutch onto
anything that floats
unlike the condemned
man whose head
when it’s placed
in the noose
will look skyward
surely knowing where
he is going
Notes
These notes
some penned
others played
dance about
in unison
or sometimes
in despair
I reach
like once
I did
long ago
as a
child with
stubby fingers
trying to
pluck the
clouds from
the sky
