The sound of dry leaves blowing in light wind tricking me into thinking he's coming up behind me even though I knew he was still taking steps across ancient terrain, across the shield. His horsepainted bellyspots of white nuzzling his head in my palms every time he saw me and me, always thanking himthank you … Continue reading When he comes home
on the road
Home-ing
Home is where you always areno matter what the weatheror who the bartender is.Home is inside you;you don’t need an apartmentbut you’ll be more comfortable that way.Look for your skeleton keys (you dropped them on the driveway) and pull away the curtain so your shadow can see the light.It’s not a spaceit’s not a placeit’s … Continue reading Home-ing
Angela Mason 