Crushed by massive waves
That break as I stand naked
And lit up with sun
Warming up and slow baking
My cheeks and arms and shoulders
My body soft, heart bolder.
A tanka to me
Crushed by massive waves
That break as I stand naked
And lit up with sun
Warming up and slow baking
My cheeks and arms and shoulders
My body soft, heart bolder.
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The Feel Of Arts
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Santa Fe Literary Scene, Poetry, Land Art, New Mexico
bare-knuckle, black-hearted poetry & prose
haiku & photography
For both poets, however, the poetic self is an illusion. But it is an illusion that is invented and reinvented time and time again with each discrete observation and experience. When all of these discrete illusions are put together, we receive a whole picture of the writer and his times.
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