HeartStrung

Photo by Calvin Hanson on Unsplash nestled in the corner cushion cold feet tucked under my legs  head resting on a pillow awake yet dreaming i am wild, free to be whole, in love with me no longer in need of the old words: (selfish . . . too much . . . liar . . . not enough . . .) here:  I   Am   Whole still reality calls me home but as i un-dream i un-become 

Brevity is art editing out dispensables keeping only requisites Photo by Mathilde Langevin on Unsplash

When the poems don't come: Get quiet, listen Soak in the moment Poems are born in silence.

Introvert stays home watches tv, reads a book and misses people Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

  Photo by Fred Kearney on Unsplash The colors bleed together     into a mass of indistinguishable shapes a swirl, like the background     when you spin on a tilt-a-whirl the rising discomfort, straight from the belly, the pressure at the back of the head, a chorus of discomfort     singing above a symphony of symptoms.