she seemed distant, a far
off dot of pretty, a red dot
of not purity, but of a
freshening in the ozone, one who
marched rather than walked,
a flotilla all by herself,
waves of blue ocean caught off-guard
by eyes steaming with originality,
one vein pulsing in her neck as she
pushed through crowds, waving
one hand to fend off
strangers wearing less than chic,
her other arm grasping the small hand
of her child, a tugboat in
distress.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
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A stark reality for many...just hopping along not know what is waiting ahead!!
Love Tinka
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)