- Gary Hunter
Half-Baked - May 8, 2022
a hot skin breeze
waterfall cooled
in my chair under
the tipuana tree
the black hole
of a nap pulls me in
this half-baked poem
will be there
waiting on
the other side
a hot skin breeze
waterfall cooled
in my chair under
the tipuana tree
the black hole
of a nap pulls me in
this half-baked poem
will be there
waiting on
the other side
with a mere glance leaves tell you how they feel I’d like to learn the finer points of body language something more than just the “Hi” of a person’s stem
the birth colors of mesquite leaves or baby’s skin something with the tint of innocence in the scheme of emergence translucent spirit not a shade darker
it rained late last night leaves cleaned green and dripping wet a dog shakes itself the pen’s side of life same struggle for survival poems find heroes the big black raven perches and picks at the tra