i watched a wet cormorant on a rock in a tide pool, her drape wings seeking heat from the bleak october. and at noon i thought of you at your grandmother's funeral, in the miniature jewels of the yew tree, beneath lichen fur. i imagined you in your annie hall get-up, cradling a clutch of … Continue reading a clutch of gerbera.
xo poem and a pebble (voice 210820) cut-up/tissue paper 2015 https://nickreeves.blog/2020/08/21/poem-and-a-pebble-voice/
When I was a kid (and sometimes still), i could reach and touch the walls (and the ceiling) from my sheeted bed - although this was impossible. And then, with an advance unstoppable, my bed, the ceiling and the walls could all be touching me. And somewhere still there was (and is) the thrill of … Continue reading although this was impossible.
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