windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

array

Jupiter, Luna, Saturn, Altair, Lyra;
the scuttlebutt about you falls
on deaf ears, here. on this doorstep, you shine,
and are free to be yourselves.

for reals

sometimes i wish my
heroes would practice a bit
at my house, for once

uh huh

be honest. what will
draw you down the wrong path. guilt?
or something tasty?

the work

you can move the words
around, or you can get right,
and then, say something.

nuance

not just strong, nor just
flexible. at our best, we’re
tender—mettlesome.