Poems from goldywan
“Love is made in the wintertime,”
he told me, pressing aching bones down into the
snow white sheets.
Our bodies and joints creaked in...
Oh, perhaps that’s it.
I have an issue, you see.
It’s pretty broad, but I’ll go ahead and call it
‘self-discovery.’
I look at all...
When you see me
what can you see?
Can you see past the
straight A's
or the hardcore violining?
Does the stink of rice
curb your might to
be...