Tag Archives: Prose

Plastic flower

in a mason jar,

I bake mooncakes

for a church bazaar.

Unroll the blunt

before you wish

on a Blue Star.

Keep forest fires

further than far,

You’ve seen a

firefly light

up a glass jar. 

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Demand back 

your hours,

I’m here 

leaning back

on your sigh.


Worth is 

light emitted,  

for those watching

morality play.

Less imperfect

more of the flawless,

a vain boast

or mark of Cain.

More colourless

than colour, 

well known 

blood red

they betray. 

Dead weight

on the too dead,

to live in the best way. 


Silver coin in palm,

front face divided in four.

Fingers close over. 


Not always wildly

into the dark,

You can 

choose light 

behind the shadow. 


Fingers trace over heart,

how far back do ‘we’ go?

I say, ‘Since the start’.


So few words, for one who fills so many hours.