when words run out

it feels like

i have wrung the 

last color from the skies

and sunsets?

are just numbers

off the calendar

strangers have never

been more as they are

just like me,

another boring puzzle 

to figure out

in my desperation,

i believed the chickens

could lead me to their

young, a compass

to an epiphany

when i am running  out

of ideas like the runs

'round my stockinged feet

Reviews

[Margaret Norway]

I can relate to this. I've read a couple of your other poems and you have a great writing style :)

[Lyn Anderson]

Your writing, the style, the starkness, matches the subject matter perfectly