back under the big sky
the dirt unfurls west, a tired old flag
that calloused hands are still
unable to surrender
To read the rest, click here and read my substack, The No Scape.
back under the big sky
the dirt unfurls west, a tired old flag
that calloused hands are still
unable to surrender
To read the rest, click here and read my substack, The No Scape.
the driving rain
did nothing to detract
from the warm colors
of dying leaves
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Train whistle calls
still make my throat catch
my feet pause mid-walk
starting to turn toward
off and off and gone