In Search of A Woozle

surprised by grace

  • The Weight of Dreams

    Oh dreams, how painful you are! if strangled under winter’s deadly spell lips cold, still, blue you break with lost longings. Extended hands grasping from a dark hole, shards at my feet. Your lovely shape is barely visible frozen, lifeless as concrete, lost among other dead things. But when Spring’s warm breath blows over you…

  • THE ACRONYM

    One day, while sinking in the deep mire of brain fog, I gave a valiant attempt at building an acronym to describe what it is like. Blender jammed with Roasted walnuts And pecans. A I) Nut butter hunk Floating about in O) Green pea soup. I try to revise it, to make it better, but…