Wrightings

  He’s got…. He squeezed, rolled, and patted the whole world. The ball warmed volcanoes compressed. In his hands fissures spill out moisture. Which remains whole. The once smooth red clay World, now gnarled and pinched offers little for life. In his hands this world, a worthless refuge, could exist when he’s got the whole wide world of possibility. This planet is not a friendly place, this planet in his hands is not a hospitable place, this planet is barely hanging on. And I with it.

  Valentines Day ‘25 You stormed in through rain a dozen offerings of love my man drunk in pain cooed like a dove I sent you on your way I didn’t understand  friends should stay but that wasn’t your plan to yet another I committed still I wanted you near friendship is most befitted and will last for more than years

  The battlefield is where I will fall,   and I will try to get back up  at least two times, so don’t  expect me in your death                                                        to show up on time! J. L. Wright