language

Somedays language is overrated.
I would leave it behind,
just for awhile,
and just be.

My thoughts would sound like music
unbound from any score.
My soul would sink down,
embedding itself in soft, warm earth.

Language wants to take flight;
I want to dig down.
Down to where it is dark
and silent.

Where the word "silence"
need not be spoken.
Wh

tomorrow

I've no time for tomorrow
why is there tomorrow?
straining toward a tomorrow never gained
tomorrow is hope
tomorrow is hopeless
if I could take back from yesterday and borrow from tomorrow, would today be all I wish it to be?
tomorrow is blue, sheer, and frothy
why do we worry about spelling tomorrow correctly?
why do we discern between today and tomorrow?
who will I be tomorrow?
anticipating a tomorrow that will not come
I'll see you tomorrow.