The Space Between, paper collage, 2023
morning is wasted on the young, or the young at heart being is erasure a crisis of stars an old woman once told me in a dream, or not in a dream that our best memories are wasted on the asphalt of living i believe her. a hawk cries and i imagine that somewhere tears have fallen a sparrow in a field purple with ruin a shirt folded and tucked inside a drawer a pair of sneakers without moons to run to
The Used Life 
10 responses to “Wasted”
Always a creative adventure with you. Fantastic!
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Thank you so much!
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Everything is suggestive and fascinating in your poetry. That’s why I like your writing so much because you know how to reach the soul, transforming an apparently trivial moment into something beautiful and transcendent.
Feliz fin de semana, L.
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Thank you very much, J. I’ve been thinking lately that I’d like to start writing more poetry and maybe find some new ways to combine it with my collage practice. I appreciate the positive feedback. Happy Saturday! 🙂
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Excellent. “being is erasure / a crisis of stars” & “that our best memories / are wasted / on the asphalt of living” especially stand out. And I love the ending.
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Thank you very much, Bob!
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This poem is really fantastic..”tears have fallen, a sparrow in a field purple with ruin,
a shirt folded and tucked inside a drawer”..these lines especially spoke to me..tears and living…simplicity answering the things that keep us up at night..so good, my friend.
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Thank you very much! 😊
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Loving the flow of this poem and the lovely imagery it conjures! ❤
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Thank you so much, Layla!
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