Edges

  The edges of me have holes in. Gaps in the fortifications, making it easier for you – to ping your view of me, into the spaces, thinking to make your mark, but I’ve played your table games before, in other places, with other players, and your view of me, pings back, at you –…

Vagabond: A Savvy Poem

  Vague? Is my plan for a future that is not yet here a tad too vague? And, being vague, am I destined to wander; to wander on from place to place and to ping on back from bone to bone, and back right in to the d e p t h s of the…