All Things Confused

A dog with newspaper spots, barking wherever he goes.

Month: June, 2016

Sipping Water

The humidity almost

Made (up) me drown,

My last breath choked

And all moist

From the sound

Of con- densation.

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Branching Out

Little finches nest above

My door

And screech for pests-

I might abhor.

 

They invite my grace

With piteous cries,

Which find my place

Inside awry.