then the day all you hear are apples Dropping one by one from the trees plummeting like rain, like horse hoofs in soft grass and you are the last still dreaming still clinging to lofty sky held illusions of the trees the apples summer the sweet green grass beneath the falling darkness.
Ok very interesting style as I have dome my double take here and see it fitting in nicely.
Very intersting and something I might try down the road
Tommy
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Welcome!
The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help.
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Very intersting and something I might try down the road
Tommy
M.Rose