Poems from ren_hunt
Today,
I walked through an antique mall.
Aisles included angels and Tiffany-designed lamps while
others had umbrellas,
spindles, spiders...
Three hundred. Three three hundred words. Four hundred. Five hundred. Three. Four Five.Three hundred words to write is it enough of Stein...
Mi abuela walked
down the streets of her childhood:
her memories were made here.
But, there were no elegant mansions,
no beveled windows...
I saw the reserved Swiss of my neighborhood
delighted by music,
enjoying controversial play,
tapping themselves through
Basel streets at...
We walk
through the valley of the shadow of death .
Drowning, down-hearted, defeated.
Hope. Hope? None—hope.
Gott, wo bist du? Du bist...