One day I decided to write a poem a day. I called it "The Folded Poems" because I pretended finding them under a chair written on the folded pieces of paper. The only criteria for the poems to be, was my own endorsement. I was the judge. If it "sounded" right, I kept it. Keeping with the pace, though, was not easy. Here I am posting them up to date. I am still writing, but not necessarily every day.
Monday, April 24, 2017
False harvest yields the dust. Old Cronus turns away from us. The Hollow Horse continues sprouting ribs. There is no better time to stumble than when the darkness falls.