Poems from mary cassandra

mary cassandra's picture
poetry is life
every three seconds, the faucet drips. it makes a small plinking sound in the accumulated puddle. there hasn't been anyone to turn it off...
fog: crawling swirling delicately settled on the old mansions and post-modern skyscrapers. early risers, with sleepy eyes and steaming...
lazy clouds scudded across the azure blue sky. the breeze left a lingering scent of sea-water, sand, and pines suspended in the air i...
an escape from the noise from the chaos within i slipped out the door and climbed the old tree on the corner. it was a clear night - stars...
it was late - just before dusk the chilly air felt crisp and sudden in our lungs. we rode on some rough straw bales strewn about the back...

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