Wisp – The Human Anvil

https://thehumananvilblog.wordpress.com/ The needle was coldLike iceDrawn on paperAnd my skinPoured forth, at it’s touch;Soft as vapour . My, my, rainbow blueWhere are thouIn this sky:Past Siberian prairiesOr neath valleysSpilling high? These dreams aren’t mineAren’t mine are these wallsI was taught to build themTo learn how to fallAnd I still can so hearThose bricks seeping salt‘Continue reading “Wisp – The Human Anvil”