12.1.14

you who were hardly here, there are days i still see you dissolving all over again, disappearing into the faint drift of blue. when the air in December  turns suddenly mild all i can do is promise to wait for whatever poem  is trying to find me.

you who were hardly here,
there are days i still see you
dissolving all over again,
disappearing into the faint drift of blue.
when the air in December
turns suddenly mild
all i can do is promise to wait
for whatever poem
is trying to find me.

kf | Jodo Way, Bethlehem, NH

12.1.14 how could you know that this is what I mean by drawing a line: that we must learn to craft our own horizons, manifest such capacious vistas which we then destine ourselves to ride into.

how could you know
that this is what I mean
by drawing a line:
that we must learn to craft our own horizons,
manifest such capacious vistas
which we then destine ourselves
to ride into.

kc | parking lot, Amherst, MA

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