Posted in Paint and ink, Poems



“through the mud and puddles
of young love I have waded
and I find myself
on the other side, searching for
some sense or rhythm in
all of this madness
but find, instead of reason,
that I had only jumped in
So that when I find myself
moving upstream in this infinite river
I might keep my head above water.”
–Zoë N.

As part of a national poetry month project I am filling a sketchbook with short poems.  Some have water color or sketches to go along with them and some, like this one, have simply words.


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