i’m tired. i’d like to lay outside and sleep in the wind, soak up the sky. perhaps it’ll fit in my pores….perhaps i’ll remember it’s face, be able to recall it during claustrophobic michigan days. but if nothing more, i’ll remember that it made me smile.
that is, perhaps, the most poetic thing i’ve written in a long while. why did i stop writing poetry again? i have no idea. i was never that good at it. but i enjoyed it, enjoyed calling myself a poet. i think it helped me define myself at a time i needed a definition. c’est la vie n’est pas? from time to time we need definitions….
hello world…define this!