My collection

row upon row, thin plastic boxes, each contains ninety or more moments,
reflecting every emotion in fantastic
frames per second

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Ruins

The bridge I built
A thousand waves
Crossed by night.
Yet, the conclusion,
What once seemed
Ancient
Is now so very
Young

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better

even those trailing
do better than me
in my best moments
i will watch from far away
and wish that I too
could run in that race

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WRITERS BLOCK

I’m not getting anything
Nothing at all
Not even a sentence
Nothing small
I came to the conclusion
It’s just a delusion.

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