Per the droppers on the window
hinting the scent of wet leaves
good reading weather
cuddle
Category: kahrmann poetry
Violence
I am sick of violence. All kinds.
Physical. Emotional. Spiritual.
Financial. Environmental. Bigoted.
Your capacity to inflict violence
is not a measure of your strength.
Rubbish. Violence and strength,
nothing synonymous
about them.
Write on
This the pathway to
Words touch tender touch
My page and my hand
Pen sends friendship
To your wordsmith self
Our camaraderie
Write on
People
Smile
And the tears roar
And the tears roar punches down
Wetlands drenching twists
A muscled foe
Into spirit
Form
Word Spun Fire
This may be not hard this word display
frankly you could say your word spun fire
into oblivion’s vanishing blast.
I owe no lines across borders
none there are but nature’s law’s
wounding humanity.
