All Things Confused

A dog with newspaper spots, barking wherever he goes.

Month: February, 2014


Not every day is like this one

I took to be my own.

The walk was in the perfect place

For nearby trees to grow.

Restfully sloping hills contained

A smooth and breathless pond.

And strolling past, I saw myself-

My heart began to run.

Necessity was not the sight

From which I turned away.

Would flowers in the green arise

Without the worker bee?

But reflected in the stillness,

Clouds rolled across the sky.

Adrift amongst the lily pads,

They almost caught my eye.


Sometimes you wake up

And miss your friends,

Disparate dreams

Outside of your head.